


Spiderwebs

by TeachUsSomethingPlease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mind Control, New Marauders in Golden Trio Era (Harry Potter), Remarkably Useful Goblins, Secret Identity, Seer Luna Lovegood, Slytherin Character Development, Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeachUsSomethingPlease/pseuds/TeachUsSomethingPlease
Summary: If Albus wanted Harry compliant, he shouldn't have let Hermione share her books. Realising they've been controlled, a small group of students, headed by Harry, breaks free as The Gang; although really, they're the next generation of Marauders. Trouble is brewing on the horizon, though...Watch as, from GoF onwards, things slowly descend into anarchy as the Gang plots, destroys, thumbs their noses, and makes... semi-solid political statements? Oh well, at least the punch has something strong in it.Features complex Slytherins, subversion, a godfather who won't eat his vegetables, and lots of Dobby!
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/?, Harry Potter & Marauders, Harry Potter & Weasley Family, Harry Potter/?, Neville Longbottom/?, Ron Weasley/?, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 48
Kudos: 146





	1. Plots and Knowledge and Weird Code Names

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. Thanks to everyone who has spent years expanding on the general accepted Lordship fanon, which I will be working with (read: tossing around like a beach ball).

They were known throughout the school as the simply The Gang. They were relentless, and skilled, their calling cards infuriatingly simple yet mind-bendingly deceptive. There was a half-dozen, at least, though possibly more, and they had emerged as a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps they weren't serious, but they were smart, and knew how to cause havoc.

Of course, when they had first emerged, everyone had assumed it was a certain set of twins. They had been, and still were, of course, the most eligible set of evil geniuses in the entire school. But they had denied involvement, and soon the Gang had established itself as an altogether separate entity. They had tried everything to sniff out the culprits – testing wands, enlisting Prefects, setting Filch on anyone suspect – not that there were many people. But everything had come back negative.

The Headmaster would have had a fit if he had realized who was behind it. Although, to be fair, with the quantity of sherbet lemons he ate, people probably wouldn't even realise he had anything worse than a case of reflux.

Right now, in a secluded classroom, at the very beginning of the school year, The Gang was having one of their meetings. Professor Vector's neat handwriting was still upon the chalkboard, but no-one would be walking in any time soon, due in no small part to Miss Pebbles's little Human-Repelling Charm. And even if anyone had walked in on them, they would have been in far too much shock to do anything, and probably would have had their memory wiped before they could muster a word.

For many of the members of The Gang were the complete opposite of what even an experienced detective would expect. Miss Pebbles had an ordinary, almost average look – not very pretty, but not ugly, either probably because she gave no attention to her appearance. Her hair was brown. Her eyes were brown. In her ordinary life, she was intelligent, and almost a goody-two-shoes. Neat. Sensible. Respectful of authority. Not the kind of girl you would expect to have cast the spell that left purple, quietly buzzing glitter in everyone's hair for weeks on end.

The boy who sat next to her on the left was even less of an interest. Mister Chompers was tall, with long features and bright red hair, but here his remarkableness ended. His face was freckled with the marks of the sun. His shoes were slightly worn and heavily scuffed. He was absolutely average at his studies, with scrawling handwriting. He loved the simple things in life – his pet. Chess. Food. Friends. Most of the teaching staff had already written him off as an okay child, but not destined for greatness. Yet here sat the mastermind behind the maze that had appeared in the corridors and made everyone late for lessons.

At Miss Pebbles's right sat the most mundane boy imaginable. Mister Honeysnout had barely made it into school. His potions tended to melt his own cauldron, or worse, explode; he struggled with many spells; he feared many things, despite his affiliation. His parents had met an unfortunate fate while he was still a baby, and it had left its mark. He was round-faced and somewhat chubby and seemed to shy away from conflict. He could not possibly be the voice that had shouted for people to understand, nor the person who had caused the torches to speak from their brackets – yet he was.

Swinging her legs from her perch on a desk was Miss Wishbone. She certainly wasn't ordinary – her hair was blonde and oddly straggly, her eyes wide, her gaze dreamy. She spent good proportions of her time in her own little world, humming to herself as she worked. She was clever, you could give her that, but strange. Prone to conspiracy theories and other strangeness, her demeanour did nothing to help her. Twin radishes – or at least, that's what they appeared to be – dangled from her ears. She had few friends and was picked on by many. And yet here sat the girl who had bound everyone together and brewed a potion that forced the staff to speak in poetry for the rest of the day.

Near Miss Wishbone, similarly on a desk but more anchored to the world sat Miss Stripes. She was a small girl, with her brother Mister Chompers's bright red hair, similarly freckled and slightly run-down. She had a personality to match her locks, fiery, not afraid to stand up and yell. She was only 13 this year, yet a proficient duellist. She spoke brashly, clearly, and had a very clear code of conduct and morality. Not the kind to hide, or to talk in a roundabout way – yet she had been the one who had suggested the calling cards, the sneaky little riddles. And she had been the one to enchant the suits of armour to spit flame behind people's backs.

Near the back of the room, absently building a house of exploding cards, was Mister Swordeye. He had been an initial suspect, with his loud personality and penchant for the mildly irresponsible but technically unpunishable. He played Exploding Snap – or poker – at the backs of class, catcalled people randomly in the hallways, and released a tarantula into a dormitory once. Something he wasn't was discreet, and after a few incidents, he had been ruled out of contention as a member of the Gang. After all, they were far too subtle, clever, and shadowy. Yet here Mister Swordeye sat, occasionally pushing his dreadlocks away from his face, putting together his house of cards, just like he put together, from his own seat at a packed table, the enchanted lines that had turned breakfast at the Great Hall into a slightly more realistic version of The Floor Is Lava.

And then there were the evil twins, leaning against the wall. Mister Brushtail and Mister Points, they were called. The final two redheads in the group, identical but for the slight variations in their freckles and eyes – but who would look at that? Like Mister Swordeye, they were loud and proud, sturdily built, absolute demons on a sporting field. They were known for their conspicuousness – they barely tried to hide their involvement in pranks, fessing up readily and often proudly. They had once promised their sister, Miss Wishbone, a toilet seat from school – she had been ten then and had found reason to laugh as her 13-year-old brothers went away to board. No-one could have guessed that Mister Brushtail and Mister Points had been the ones to engineer the trick that had swapped everyone's common room locations – heck, no-one had even noticed until someone had been screeched at by a bronze eagle near the kitchens. Most people with any sense would have realised they shouldn't just write off the nutcases as fools to boot, but then again, they played their part well.

And finally, their leader. In most of the staff's eyes, he wasn't even in contention for suspicion. He couldn't be. He was their saviour, after all. Not that they would have recognized him easily as he sat perched atop the teacher's desk. His normally scruffy, often windswept hair was neater, shining black. His eyes, though they retained their green hue, had less of the almond shape, appearing narrower in the absence of his glasses. His posture had less of a reckless slouch here, somehow sitting both straight-backed and carelessly. Yes, he had a way to become invisible, and to monitor the inhabitants of the castle, but that didn't matter. He looked up to the Headmaster like a grandfather and was brave and loyal. There wasn't a single cunning, nor hardworking, nor overly witty bone in his body. There was no way he was the one who bombarded the Headmaster himself with personal pranks – and sometimes attacks. He was a Gryffindor, through and through. Even, to Professor McGonagall's surprise, Snape agreed. Despite his mediocrity and arrogance and uselessness at potions and recklessness and bad attitude, _just like his father_ , he was in no way involved.

And yet, there Mister Silver sat, and with what the Gang was planning, any of the adults would have put their heads in their hands and wondered what in the world happened to the wide-eyed, lion-to-the-end, Golden Boy, Harry James Potter.


	2. Required Backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How exactly did we get into this, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

Harry had known something was up for a year before he had brought the Gang together. It had been mainly down to Hermione's voracious appetite for books, but it had been him who'd put the pieces together. Her parents had gotten her an innocuous gift – _The Soul_ by Calliope D'Alene, and the girl had consumed every word within a matter of days. And, of course, she had found it 'terribly fascinating' and bugged her friends to try it.

There had been a mild, nagging feeling that they shouldn't at the back of Harry's mind, but he had disregarded it, putting it down to how he'd much rather be out on his broom than attempting to access his own soul. Besides, Harry hadn't seen anyone look quite so eager since Ron at opening feast. Hermione could be very determined when she wanted to be, and the boys found themselves sitting on the floor of a room in the Leaky Cauldron, trying to feel their own magic.

Harry had been sure it hadn't done anything. Hermione had looked mildly disappointed, Ron hungry. Ron usually looked hungry, so it wasn't unusual. After dinner, Hermione made them try again. Ron said he felt like his nose was tingling, then sneezed. Harry just felt tired. Hermione had sighed in defeat and put the book away. She made them try it for a little every day until the end of the holidays, but still there was naught. And on the final day of the holidays, they had gone to sleep, woken up, gotten on the train as if nothing had happened. Harry felt a little odd walking through the barrier but put it down to the wind.

Then, at the feast, it happened. Harry felt a soft buzzing in his mind – but then again, sometimes the castle did let in the bugs, and then they would fly at the candles, catch fire, and fly around setting anything nearby alight. Hermione suddenly got up, claiming to have a headache, and ran to the Hospital Wing. That was unusual, but he let it slide. Then Ron had jumped to his feet and ran after her, complaining of feeling sick. He had left before dessert. That was very unusual – but then again, Ron had eaten four plates of food. Harry had glanced up at the staff table – and felt a violent headache as if he was being attacked by an axe. He wanted to get up, but something more powerful than himself compelled him to stay seated. It was as if his legs were glued to the bench.

An odd calm had descended over him. It felt unnatural, but it was soothing, and Harry would have simply stayed sitting, except that he started wondering if this had anything to do with _The Soul_ , and then he had remembered the whole perception of the soul thing. Hermione had spent at least a quarter hour jabbering on about how meditation might help people push through physical pain. So Harry had tried focussing on his soul again, and the pain had promptly tripled. He had glanced up at the staff table, head now spinning as well as throbbing, and saw the Headmaster looking back at him. Excusing himself hastily, he ran out of the hall to Madam Pomfrey, who despairingly wondered when they were going to stop warming her beds.

It was only afterwards, as he flopped over in the dorm, looking out at the night sky, that he realised what had been happening. It was only afterwards that he correlated the curious calm sensation with the feeling he always had around the Headmaster, now he came to think about it. The comfort, the trust, the eyes that seemed to see right through you…

It was only afterwards that he realised the Headmaster had been trying to hijack his mind.

Harry would have gone to Dumbledore – after all, he was probably the wisest and most powerful wizard in the castle. However, it would have been a tad bit awkward to complain about the Headmaster to the Headmaster. Not to mention, there was no knowing what he might do. So he'd done the next most clever thing and gone straight to the human encyclopaedia. Hermione's alarm was only comparable to Ron's indignation.

"He stopped us before dessert!" he had complained.

"Ronald, that's hardly the problem," Hermione had chided.

"But still. The welcome feast has the best food in the year."

Ron was like that – all heart, stomach, and guts. That bit of him would never change. But he still helped the other two put things together. Harry figured out their minds were being invaded, manipulated; Hermione figured out why; Ron figured out what to do about it.

"The best thing to do to screw with people's minds," he had said, "Would be to put a lot of pressure on them while we build our strength. You know how you stress a teacher? Pull a Twins on them. Checkmate, Harry."

"You just want to blow up stuff in the dungeons."

Ron shrugged. "Guilty, mate."

"I can't believe he's willing to steal people's minds for his 'Greater Good'," Hermione had sighed sadly. "I thought he was meant to be a good man."

"However we feel about it, we can't just stop. Ron's right. We've got to keep going, but keep it quiet," Harry had said, grumpily watching Ron's castles beating up his King, who was squeaking protests about checkmate being a technicality.

They had built up their strength for a whole year before finally enlisting Fred and George to help with their crusade. In that time, they had learned a lot from Hermione's books, and pulled off a couple of stunts – switching Dumbledore's sugar for salt, turning Snape's robes pink, and, after they figured him out, cursing Lockhart's hair curlers to make his hair stand straight on end. But they hadn't really been able to do much, due in part to Dumbledore's sheer power.

"We can't let him realise it's not working," Harry had said, as sat, spooked, in the common room. Justin and Nick had just been petrified and none of the trio had worked it out yet. "But now is really not the time for all this."

"We've got to do it slowly, Harry," Hermione had sighed. "If we slowly resist the mind altering, he won't notice we're shielding ourselves."

"Whatever happens, we had better keep studying up on this," Ron had said.

Hermione had immediately examined Ron's head very carefully before reporting that he was indeed sound of mind. Ron had rolled his eyes and gotten back to eating a piece of bacon.

At the end of the year, the Chamber of Secrets had opened. Harry was thankful for his preparation – he noticed as Riddle tried to take his wand, and kept it safely within his own hands. As he battled the Basilisk and Riddle, Harry had considered calling upon Dumbledore's aid, but pushed the thought away. Instead, he tried to think on his own feet, and, by some miracle, managed to use levitated rocks to damage the snake's eyes, before causing it to bite down on the diary, destroying it. He then used the most powerful spell he knew to blow up a pillar, which crushed the snake to death. Apparently, Harry Potter's luck was rather capricious and couldn't decide whether to kill him or not. Once again, Harry wondered if he should go to the Headmaster, but realised this was probably the echoes of past manipulation speaking to him. He was more in touch with his soul now, and felt that his thoughts came not of his own magic, but someone else's. So he took Ginny, who was more than a little freaked, helped Ron blast through the rock fall from the opposite side, and used a spell he'd seen Lockhart use at the Duelling Club to fly up and out of the chamber. And before they went to explain to the adults, he warned Ginny not to talk about the Basilisk.

The main catalyst for The Gang's formation, however, came from a visit to Gringotts. Hermione had gotten bored during the holidays, and her parents again gave her some books – including one on wizarding law. Honestly, a lot of things were triggered by Hermione reading a book. Sometimes Harry wondered if he should just find a wizarding library, leave Hermione there for a year, then come back. There was always the concern of Hermione taking over the world, though.

In any case, when they arrived at Gringotts and Harry mentioned his vault – his only vault – Hermione nearly had an aneurysm. "Harry! You could have so much lying around there that you don't know about! Dumbledore controlled all your finances – who knows what's there! You could have vaults, properties, investments, or some long-lost relations!" Hermione had shrieked, shaking him slightly.

"Okay, okay! Harry will go down to Gringotts, and so can you," Ron said hastily, as Harry's glasses fell off. "Just don't give him a concussion, please, I need him to play Quidditch."

And so, the next day, Ron, Harry, and Hermione excused themselves to 'get an ice-cream'. Harry assured Mrs Weasley she didn't have to give Ron any pocket money and that this was a thank-you from him after the whole kidnapped Ginny debacle, and the trio sneaked off to the bank.

"We'd like to look into our inheritances, please," Harry said to the goblin, Strorkut.

"All three of you?" the goblin asked.

Ron began to shake his head, but Hermione stopped him. "Yes, please."

Strorkut jumped down from his seat. "Follow me."

He led them to a little room with a desk and chairs and motioned for them to sit down. Then, he pulled three pieces of parchment from a drawer, along with some needles. "Please drop seven drops of blood onto the parchment."

The three did as they were told. Ron splattered the blood a little, Hermione squeaked, and Harry nearly put the needle through his whole finger. This didn't seem to effect the tests, and within a little time, the results began to blossom in red across the pages.

**Harry James Potter**

**Father: James Potter**

**Mother: Lily Potter (Evans)**

**Paternal Grandfather: Fleamont Potter**

**Paternal Grandmother: Euphemia Potter (Davis)**

**Maternal Grandfather: John Evans**

**Maternal Grandmother: Bluebell Evans (Newcomb)**

**Inheritance:**

**Potter (Final Surviving, full Ownership)**

**Black (Heir, familial control)**

**Evans (Final Surviving, full Ownership)**

**Newcomb (Extinct in Male Line, full Ownership)**

**Status: Child**

**Guardian: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore**

**Magical Residues:**

**Compulsion Charm**

**Memory Manipulation**

**Loyalty Potion**

**Silence Potion**

**Magic Binding**

**Recklessness Potion**

**Hermione Jean Granger**

**Father: Robert Granger**

**Mother: Jean Granger (Stephens)**

**Paternal Grandfather: Duncan Granger**

**Paternal Grandmother: Matilda Granger (Lewis)**

**Maternal Grandfather: Luke Stephens**

**Maternal Grandmother: Louise Stephens (Meunier)**

**Inheritance:**

**Dagworth-Granger (Final Surviving, full Ownership)**

**Bellerose (Extinct in Male Line, full Ownership)**

**Duguay (Extinct in Male Line, full Ownership)**

**Status: Child**

**Guardian: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore**

**Magical Residues:**

**Compulsion Charm**

**Memory Manipulation**

**Loyalty Potion**

**Silence Potion**

**Magic Binding**

**Eidetic Memory Binding**

**Ronald Bilius Weasley**

**Father: Arthur Weasley**

**Mother: Molly Weasley**

**Paternal Grandfather: Septimus Weasley**

**Paternal Grandmother: Cedrella Weasley (Black)**

**Maternal Grandfather: Hyacinthus Prewett**

**Maternal Grandmother: Lucia Prewett (Greengrass)**

**Inheritance:**

**Weasley (Familial control)**

**Prewett (Extinct in Male Line, familial control)**

**Status: Child**

**Guardian: Arthur Weasley**

**Magical Residues:**

**Compulsion Charm**

**Memory Manipulation**

**Loyalty Potion**

**Silence Potion**

**Magic Binding**

**Jealously Potion (Time Keyed)**

The silence was broken by Hermione puffing herself up. "That old bat! I expected a few memory alterations or compulsions, but potions? Recklessness? Memory? Jealousy potion, keyed to a specific time? Our magic bound – good grief, I could strangle him."

"Technically, you can't, because your magic's bound," Ron said lamely.

"How do you think muggles kill each other, Ron?" Hermione asked, still inflated like an angry pufferfish.

"At least we know a little about those inheritances," Harry said. "And in the meantime, we know what to look out for."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose."

Ron, however, was thinking.

"Earth to Ron." Hermione smacked him upside the head and he sat up a little straighter.

"Strorkut," he asked. "Shouldn't our families be receiving a statement? I know mom checks over the one from the Weasley vault twice, to make sure we don't lose any money from a scam. But I've never seen the Prewett one."

"The Prewett vault is as yet unclaimed," Strorkut explained. "As are many of the other vaults in your inheritances. It's annoying. All the money's locked up and doesn't circulate through the economy. Bad for business."

"Well, what can we do?" Hermione asked.

"As heirs, you can claim your inheritances. But all vault transfers larger than 100G will have to be approved by your guardian," the goblin said.

Harry frowned slightly. "A moment, please?" The goblin nodded and Harry turned to the others. "That's good for you, Ron, your family will come into the Prewett's money. But Dumbles isn't going to make it easy for you or me, Hermione."

"I didn't realise he was my guardian in the magical world," Hermione huffed crossly. "I assumed it would go to my family."

"No, because they aren't magical, and you are," Ron said, slowly. "Wait…"

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"If you're the last of a line, you become Head of the House. Not school house, the family House. It runs to males first, then females. Like the Queen, you know? And then, each House has a Wizengamot seat… and the Head is entitled to manage themselves so long as they can prove they're mentally sound. Like, um…"

"They're emancipated?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded. "I guess. So, if we bide our time, pretending to play into Dumbledore's hands, only touching the things that won't notify him…"

"We can shock him when we come out," Hermione beamed. "Ron, you're a genius."

Ron blushed slightly.

"Not to mention, we'd have decent political clout with a few allies," Harry added. "Let's see. Weasley, Prewett, Bellerose, Duguay, Potter, Newcomb. That's six houses already, if you don't count Granger."

"So we claim, but don't take?" Hermione asked, to verify.

"Well. We can take a little, so long as we don't take more than 100G from each vault in a transaction," Harry smirked slightly. "Dumbles won't know what's hit him."

"You're starting to act like a Slytherin," Ron said, mildly unnerved.

Harry just shrugged, then turned to the goblin. "Thank you for this, Strorkut. Could we claim that which we've inherited, please?"

"Of course," Strorkut said. "Sign here, and another drop of blood, please." The three children signed and dropped their blood onto the parchment, and Strorkut rolled up the parchment. "Will you retrieve anything now?"

"Not at the moment, thank you, Strorkut," Harry said. "Thank you for this."

"May your coffers overflow," Hermione piped up from next to them. Ron looked puzzled, but nodded, and while the goblin didn't smile, he seemed a little happier as he showed the trio out.

"What made you say that?" Ron asked, as they stepped into the sunshine.

"I read up on goblin culture. It's a favourite farewell of theirs," Hermione answered. "I like it better than 'May your enemies be beheaded and their heads roll on the floor.'"

Ron nodded slowly. "Good then. Well. We'd better get started, I guess – are we up for ice-creams still?"

And so, the trio set about making allies – though not before coming up with a decent excuse for the Weasley's sudden coming into wealth.

"Oh. Hermione overheard some goblins talking about the Prewett vault still being unclaimed. So she told us about it, and I remembered you were a Prewett, mum. So, I asked about it, and they did some tests, and here we are," Ron said, shrugging his shoulders.

Arthur needed brandy. Molly needed firewhiskey. And the Weasley parents weren't the only bamboozled people that night. Fred and George were ecstatic but very surprised at the trio's interest in their little crimes, especially 'Little Miss Perfect'. Percy wanted to know what all the fuss was about, because it was interrupting his studies. Ginny was excited at finally being included in something her brothers did.

"You'll make an excellent soldier," Fred told her. "You're very scary, if you ask Percy. He hid under the bed for three hours that time he accidentally broke your chair."

Fred and George, in turn, recruited Lee as soon as school was in session. Ginny recruited Luna, as much as you could recruit someone who seemed to already know what was going on, and Ron decided to rope Neville in. Just in case it toughened him up. Of course, there was a little bit of worry around the whole 'covert' business where Fred and George were concerned, but that was soon cleared up - after all, they could work with the group while still blowing up toilets. And from then on, the revolution was in full swing. They trained, they plotted, they pranked, and they certainly never let their guard down. At the end of the year, the discovery of Sirius Black –a real live Marauder, much to the twin's delight – was yet another asset they managed to steal out of Dumbledore's hands. It was so simple too – they just warned him and gave him some antidotes Hermione had brewed out of one of Hagrid's enormous pumpkins, transfigured into something like a cauldron. Remus Lupin would be more difficult, but they could probably figure something out. Harry Potter left the school secure in the knowledge his godfather was safe, Buckbeak was safe, and the newly named Gang and its code-named members weren't going anywhere any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it gets less stereotypical as we go along.


	3. Plotting and Also Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We let Neville out to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

"Lee, would you please concentrate?" Hermione asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry," he said, flicking his card castle over. It blew up with a loud bang, and half the 6 of hearts got stuck in George's hair.

Hermione turned back to the others. "As I was saying, we need to have re-established our presence here by Hallowe'en. The tournament will be overshadowing us then, and there's also the risk other schools will be suspected. Though this doesn't actually make any sense, we've already established that our fellow students are often not the smartest – particularly as they're probably being charmed, as we were."

There was a general nodding – except from Ron, who had fallen into the habit of thinking during meetings, and Luna, who looked as if she hadn't even heard the statement.

"What are we going to do, then?" Ginny asked. "We left with a good bang last year, that face on the wall was hilarious."

"I just want to know who the scamp was who drew a moustache over it," Fred said.

George nodded. "That was inspirational."

Ron looked up. "I think we should lull them into a false sense of security first. Fred, George if you act normally, that'll keep the problems going. But we shouldn't do anything spectacular until Hallowe'en itself. I guess we might do one small one, to remind them we're here, but we should make it look like we're getting tied up in the Tournament hassle."

"Right. Hallowe'en would let us leave our marks on the other schools, too, and straight away," Neville agreed. "Maybe we should split up. One team can manage Hallowe'en itself, and another can plan the intermission."

Dreamily, Luna added, "I like this plan. Last time we did something like it, it attracted a lot of Wrackspurts to the castle. I'm still working on the fields to keep them away, since the Butterbeer caps are a little too weak, but Hermione's training should help us a lot with that."

Harry nodded. "Good. We can mark the Hallowe'en appearance as The Gang – Ron, who've we already named as individual instigators?"

Ron shuffled through a stack of parchment, scratching his long nose. "Uh. Okay. We named you, me, Luna, Ginny, Lee, and Neville. We left Hermione, Fred, and George unnamed, because we were concerned about them thinking we were too big."

"Who should we name the little ones for, then?" Lee asked.

Harry thought for a moment. After fighting off the blocks, all of them had experienced changes within their thought patterns, Harry more than most. "Ron," he said slowly. "We can't name either Fred or George individually yet, and we can't risk a sudden pair appearing. Hermione, we don't want people to know we have a good mind, and you're name's too obviously different to ours. Neville, Luna, and Lee, we've used you as heads a bit too often – and we don't want to have a clear leader. That leaves Ginny, Ron, or me. I'm not as obvious as the others, but still at risk of showing as the leader – and I've also been the name behind two Dumbledore incidents. Plus, I have one of the more obvious names. And since we're trying to create personality, I don't think Ginny would fit to these kinds of pranks. That leaves Ron. Your name is even a warrior, so it makes sense that you'd continue when we don't."

"Good," Hermione said, scribbling the information down. "We'll work on that. Anything else we needed to cover, before people notice we're missing?"

Neville nodded slightly shyly. "I think we need a new classroom."

"Why's that?" Ginny asked.

"Well," Neville explained, "I was going down to the greenhouse, and I heard Professor Sprout talking to Professor Vector. Professor Vector was a little worried, because she said her arithmancy was showing some disturbances around the classroom."

"Damn," Hermione cursed. "If she's picking it up, we definitely can't keep using this room. I thought I was removing the spell fully."

"It could just be the residual magic hanging around. She –"

" –always did tend to get up in the middle of the night." Fred and George said together.

"And if she's doing that, there will be slight amounts of magic left behind, since it's a field instead of a direct spell," Hermione sighed. "Not enough to tell her anything, but enough to make her suspicious."

"We'll need a new secure location, then," Ron said gloomily. "What with us having a public presence, the teachers are itching to catch us."

"If only we had one of the Founder's rooms," Luna said. "Daddy thought he was nearly about to find Ravenclaw's study while he was at school, but he never got the time."

Harry nearly fell off his perch on the desk. "Luna, you are a genius."

"Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure," Luna trilled back.

"I doubt we're going to find Ravenclaw's study," Lee warned.

Harry shook his head. "We don't need to. Not that we shouldn't, but we already have a place to meet."

"Where? It must be a place –"

" – not on the map, or else –"

" – we'd have noticed."

Harry nodded. "It's not on the map, because the Marauders were Gryffindors. We're going full Slytherin. If it's alright with you two, Ron, Ginny."

Hermione gasped. "The Chamber!"

Ron groaned. "Great. More time sneaking into a girl's bathroom."

"Is it safe?" Neville asked.

"Sure," Harry replied. "The snake was blinded when I fought it, so its eyes aren't a worry. We could use its parts too, now that I think of it – Basilisks are so poisonous they keep fresh for years. The only way to get in is Parseltongue, but we can get around that with recordings – or if we just buy a butt-tonne of snakes. Its secure, and because everyone still thinks we're a bunch of Light-facing airheads, no-one will think of looking down there. As far as they know, The Gang doesn't even know it's there."

"What's all this about a girl's bathroom?" Fred asked.

"Yeah. We heard Percy complaining about it, but never found out why," George added.

"The entrance is in a bathroom, right?" Neville asked.

"Yep. Moaning Myrtle's to be precise," Ron grumbled.

"She'll be happy of the company," Hermione pointed out. "I think we can trust her not to spill. She hates the Headmaster, anyway."

"Why?" Ginny asked. "Everyone loves him. Except for Slytherin. Myrtle wasn't a Slytherin, was she?"

"No, but potions and enchantments don't work on the dead," Hermione explained. "And he never helped deal with her bullying situation. That's how she died, you know. She was hiding in a bathroom, and the snake got her. She's bitter with everyone. Except Harry. I think she has a bit of a crush on him, actually…"

"So, we'll use the Chamber as a meeting place?" Neville asked. "Because it's getting almost too late to meet up. If we're not in our dorms soon, our roommates will suspect something's up."

"You're right," Harry said, checking the clock on the wall. "Good on you, Neville, we almost left a hint behind. Let's meet up in the Chamber next week, okay?"

* * *

In the morning, Harry got up and went down to the Great Hall like normal. Ron was already down there, stuffing his face, and Hermione arrived a few minutes later, in a significantly better condition than either of the two boys. They made small talk, asked the others about their holidays, and collected their timetables, like normal. This was an important part of their planning. While they were now strong enough that Dumbledore's charms had no effect on them, they still had to act as normally as possible, or risk detection. The idea was to trick him into thinking he had successfully reprogrammed them into the perfect Golden Trio. After breakfast, Harry went back to the Gryffindor Tower and, while no-one but Ron was looking, drank a small vial of potion as the redhead did the same. He then packed up his things – his phoenix-feather wand, his books, and, while no-one was looking, a small amount of coins and his second wand.

Hermione, after fully unblocking her eidetic (or as Ron called it, bloody human camera) memory, had turned into even more of a nerd than before. She now barely had to study, and instead poured the extra time into learning more and more. Her focus, of course, had initially been methods of surveillance and control, as well as how to stop them. One day, she had run up to Harry and Ron after their divination class.

"Calm down," Ron had said weakly, as she dragged them both off by their school ties. They had slowly gotten used to her sudden outbursts, but that didn't make them any less of a surprise, and Hermione wasn't gentle.

"I will not. We need new wands."

"What for? What about the whole wand chooses the wizard, and all that?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but you can have more than one. Godric Gryffindor had three at one stage – one for duelling, one for transfiguration, and one for charms. Rowena Ravenclaw collected the things. Helga Hufflepuff had two in her youth, but only used one as an adult. Salazar Slytherin had two as well, but he gave one to Ravenclaw when he no longer needed it. Apparently, it liked her better. The point is, we need new ones, because we can be tracked through these."

"How?" Ron asked. "The Trace? Shouldn't that show all magic around us?"

Hermione shook her head. "The Trace will show that there's magic going on, yes, but not who. You know why Hogwarts students are encouraged to go to Ollivander's? All his wands are registered. That means they can track what spells we're using, all the time!"

"And our souls?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, but at the moment, we can still only barely practice Occlumency and very basic wandless magic. We need a way in which we can't be tracked."

"We'll get them when we go down to Hogsmeade," Ron said. "I know there's a wandmaker in Knockturn Alley. We can sneak out using the Floo. I've always wanted to go to Knockturn Alley."

After that incident, all members of The Gang were bought new wands, courtesy of either Harry or Hermione. And they carried them (albeit discreetly) everywhere. They never used them in class, or during their encounters with the Slytherins – only when they were sure they couldn't be tracked.

Class went by in a whirl, thanks to Harry's unbound magic abilities. They had finally completely removed the blocks at the end of the third year, and since then, most classes had become a breeze. Harry found he had his mother's skill in potions and his father's in defence. Snape was grudgingly impressed. Ron turned out to be fairly good at charms and defence as well. Neville no longer screwed up quite so much in potions and could make just about anything in the greenhouses grow. Hermione, of course, was good at everything. They made sure to slip up every so often, though, so as not to cause suspicion – and that led to amusing situations like the day's Transfiguration class.

"Potter, Weasley, what on Earth have you boys done?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking down at their mice.

"I'm really not sure," Ron replied weakly, trying not to laugh. They were studying switching spells and had been asked to switch a mouse and a tortoise. Harry and Ron could do these to satisfaction, though it took effort, but had intentionally screwed over. What they had gotten was an eight-legged mouse and a legless mouse with two tails.

McGonagall assigned extra homework to the two, went over to fix Neville's nose back onto his head, and awarded Hermione five points for perfectly performing the spell.

Their lessons often went like this. Hermione would act like the perfect student, struggling once or twice but always getting it first. Harry and Ron would create various mishaps. Neville still wasn't brilliant, on account of using his father's wand, but occasionally had to intentionally melt his own cauldron. While they worked, the students would be plotting their next move – and when they quickly finished their homework, they would pretend to study more while secretly practicing their new techniques.

On the first of October, Ron warned Harry to stay away from Snape's office.

"He might try and catch you for it, mate," he said frankly.

"What're you two talking about?" Dean asked, coming over with his shoes on the wrong feet.

"Didn't you hear? Bloody hell, Dean, what rock do you live under?" Ron asked, feigning surprise.

Dean shook his head, and Harry, who was much better at lying, took over. "The Gang. They reckon they're going to pull something on Snape, and of course, he'd love to catch a Gryffindor for it."

"What're they going to do?" Dean asked, but Harry shrugged. Ron hadn't told him what was going to happen. When Dean turned to Ron, he made a noncommittal face.

"If they told us, the teachers could stop it."

Harry nodded along, though he secretly wondered what exactly Ron, Neville, and Ginny had come up with. Knowing Ron, it would be strategically executed so no-one was nearby; knowing Neville, it was probably simple but brilliant; knowing Ginny, it was probably vicious.

At lunchtime, he found out. He was scribbling out some DADA homework for Moody when Dean elbowed him in the ribs. "You were right."

Harry looked up and choked on his sandwich. It wasn't big, but it did look very funny. Someone had enchanted Snape's clothes to look like Augusta Longbottom's. As soon as students noticed, they stopped eating and stared, before telling the people nearby. Slowly, as Snape made his way across the hall in a kind of walk of shame, the chatter stopped, replaced with nervous giggling and whispers. Then, a Hufflepuff first-year, who clearly lacked in self-control, looked up and snorted his pumpkin juice out of his nose, and the spell was broken. Laughter and chatter broke out once more and as Snape sat down at the table, absolutely furious, as rain of parchment slips began to fall from the sky. One landed in Lavender's soup and she fished it out. "Ooh!" she squealed, holding up the parchment. "With love from Mister Chompers, and a little ghost! He's from The Gang, isn't he, Parvati?"

Parvati had nodded, apparently too afraid of bursting into giggles to open her mouth. Her mouthful of salad probably didn't help either. Sometimes Harry wondered why Parvati ate so much salad. It couldn't have been very tasty. Then again, there wasn't much other food around that was vegetarian. No-one could just live on potatoes.

"And here I was thinking they'd forgotten about us," Seamus beamed.

Ron smirked and Lavender raised her eyebrows at him. "What is it, Ron?"

"Just thinking of what they'll pull next," he said, as a gaggle of 6th years walked into the hall and they all burst out cackling like witches out of a muggle storybook.

"Maybe they won't," Hermione said. "The Tournament's coming up. Remember, they had a bit of a blackout when Sirius Black broke into the tower. What's to say that won't happen again?"

"I hope they come back," Seamus said. "They're good."

Parvati nodded. "Sometimes I don't really get why they do it. But it's funny, that's for sure."


	4. Dangerous Pasta Noodles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildly expositional. Also there's a troll in there somewhere?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

"It smells in here," Neville commented, as he landed with a slight splat on the floor.

"Well, we've got to make the antechamber seem untouched," Hermione said, landing more neatly. "How's your transfiguration going?"

"Better," Neville replied. "I'm still having problems with it, but it's not so bad. Breaking the locks helped a bit, I think. A bit more with potions. A lot with my Herbology."

"You've all got Hallowe'en covered?" Ginny asked, as they approached the statue of Salazar Slytherin.

"Quite nicely. It's going to take some complicated magic, but we can pull it off," Hermione said, casting a Human-Repelling Charm at the base of some pillars. "Now, what's on the agenda?"

Harry checked his papers. "Occlumency, souls, and… human transfiguration."

"Look. We get that you're –"

" – an ugly git. Honestly, you're –"

" – scrawny, specky –"

" – and your face looks like Buckbeak's. But why –"

" – pray tell –"

" – would you endeavour –"

" – to change us?" the twins asked.

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron burst out laughing. "Funny. It's part of our strategy. We'll get to it when we discuss it fully. First, though, Occlumency. How're our shields going? I haven't let him in my head for about three months, if you don't count break."

"None of us 6th years have ever felt anything," Lee said. "Even with the soul thing. We do feel it in Snape's class, though."

Hermione nodded in affirmation. "He always uses low level Legilimency to find out things. I think it's part defence mechanism, part attitude. You can defend against that?" Hermione had become far less obedient of authority as of late, blaming Fred and George for corrupting her.

The older students nodded, as did most of the younger students. Neville raised his hand. "I can fend off Dumbledore, but not Snape."

"That sounds about right," Hermione replied. "Since you're scared of Snape still, you would have more problems. You'll get there eventually. We're all practicing every night?"

They all nodded at her and she smiled. "Good. From what I've learned, that, coupled with the soul extension, should make it come naturally to us. It'll be a great help. Next up… souls."

Lee coughed. "Mine's being weird."

"How so?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged. "Just weird. I tried to do the thing you taught us, where we draw on the magic from inside of ourselves rather than through a wand, but now I can barely feel anything."

"Luna?" Harry asked. Luna wandered over to Lee. They had found out she was far more sensitive to magic than the rest of them, so that she could see their souls, so long as they weren't locked down. That explained many of her oddities – picking up on Wrackspurts, how she was always in a dream, her odd way of picking up disguised people.

"It's been tied down again," she said, softly. "Possibly a potion in your food. I would get anything straight from the house elves for the next few days. They really are the most wonderful creatures…" she trailed off dreamily.

"Thanks, Luna," Lee said, and she smiled back.

"We can all levitate things now," Ginny said. "What's next?"

Hermione pulled out a book. "Here's the thing. We continue strengthening our links to our magic, and it becomes progressively easier. It took us all about a year to start to block the Legilimency, and another, either in tandem or not, to learn to levitate objects. We should be able to progress to instinctive shield charms in about six months."

Fred whistled in awe. "That's pretty damn useful. Anything else?"

Hermione shook her head. "It'll all come as a result, now. If we continue to use our minds rather than wands to levitate – we could disguise it somehow, I guess – we could go even faster than that. As we learn, it'll become more instinctive. In their primes, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin were both capable of duelling with their minds – although it took a lot of effort, since they only learned as adults. Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff could both do basic spells without a wand – although all four carried their wands, as it made them more powerful. That's why they were so great."

Ron nodded slowly. "We could continue to build that up, but always carry wands, too. That way, we can trick people into thinking we're reliant on them and lull them into false security."

Harry thought for a moment. "Right. We could practice by holding our wands but using our minds. No-one would notice unless they looked closely. Just basic things. Levitation – how far off's summoning, Hermione?"

"Fairly close, actually. Magic works on intent, that's why we say the words. Since levitation and summoning aren't too far off, so long as we have adequate power, we should all be able to do it. Although I'd learn it with a wand first."

George grinned. "Okay. Boring stuff out of the way. What about changing your ugly mug, Harry?"

"Yeah, the sooner, the better," Fred agreed.

Harry fought the urge to smack Ron as he nearly fell over. "It's not for changing my face! All of us need an extra identity, and for that, we need to learn basic human transfiguration. I was thinking we should look similar, but not so much that we look like whacked out versions of ourselves."

"Why do we need an extra identity?" Neville asked. "Okay, my name isn't the most flattering, but I'm fine with how I look."

Harry nodded. "Yes, but we've been planning this for two years, and we figured something out. Tell them, Hermione."

Hermione beamed. "Well, there are two parts. First of all, the Wizengamot. Since a few of us hold seats that we can technically use, it makes sense to have another identity to claim them with. You can take a blood test that only shows your ancestry, which we can then use to take back the seats we need. I can claim Bellerose and Duguay, Harry can claim Potter and Newcomb, Sirius can claim Black, or Harry can claim it by proxy. Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George's parents can claim Weasley and Prewett, which they have already. Neville, your grandmother should be in possession of Longbottom. Lee, your family has a serious claim as immigrant wizards, though you'd have to do a mountain of paperwork. And Luna, your father holds Lovegood and could possibly claim more, if there was anything that came through your mother's side. All these seats, apart from Longbottom, I'm pretty sure are currently in the hands of the Supreme Mugwump."

"And since we don't want Dumbles to know what we're doing, we need new identities," Harry finished.

"That'll be three identities. More than enough to confuse everyone," Ron added. "One faceless, and two with faces. The key will be to differentiate the three so they don't bear resemblance to each other."

"So, have you figured out how you're going to project yourself? Since you obviously can't be a scrawny, specky git like yourself." Fred smirked as Harry felt a headache start to come on.

"My name," he said, slowly and carefully, "Will be Adonis John Potter. I'm a pureblood wizard whose branch of the family moved to Spain, but then moved back to Ireland when I was a child, hence my lack of accent. I have now moved to Britain in order to claim my seats. I have the Potter hair, but I'm about 20 and short. My eyes are gold – that's a Newcomb trait, and should cover up my most defining feature."

"Shouldn't it pass to you straight up, though?" Neville asked, trying to wrap his head around politics and deciding not to even try.

"Nope. Still a minor. That means an older member of my house can hold the Lordship in my stead, overwhelming my magical guardian, so long as I agree. And of course, I didn't even know what seats were. I thought they were talking about chairs."

"Told you he was dumb as a brick," George whispered. "Ow!" he added, as Harry shot a stinging hex at him.

"My name's Emma Clemence Granger. I'm 22, average sized, and grew up in Paris. I decided to move over here after discovering much of my family in this region has died out, and I am hoping to extend ties with them. I have Granger eyes, dark brown, but Duguay complexion – that's freckles and a tan to you. And Bellerose hair – it's auburn and curly," Hermione said. "I hope you guys don't hate that, I put a while into researching it."

"Lucius Malfoy's going to have a heart attack, he'll think you're another Weasley coming to take over," Ginny sniggered, making Hermione flush and cough slightly. "I want to see that. How are you going to do the French thing, though?"

Hermione frowned. "I can speak French."

"You can – of course she can speak French," Ron sighed. "Make the rest of us feel stupid, why don't you…"

"What're you going to do, Luna?" Ginny asked. "Why doesn't your father use his seat?"

"Daddy doesn't have the time," Luna said dreamily. "Besides, there are just so many Wrackspurts flying around the Ministry. It's the politics."

"Why don't you go?" Neville asked. "While you're not helping him. Not as yourself, of course, no-one would take you seriously – no offence."

"None taken," Luna replied serenely. "Yes, that's good, but I'd need to know I have allies, or it would become frightfully bad for my disposition."

In the end, Luna agreed to go as a newly 17-year-old witch named Circe Lavinia Lovegood – because as Ron said, anyone could believe in a random Lovegood wandering in out of nowhere. She would simply look like an older version of herself with darker hair and wear makeup. Lee said he would investigate his family's rights so long as they shared the paperwork out, and maybe send his father in his stead. As for his new appearance, he decided to call himself Hardwin Werner Jordan, short and around 25, with cropped hair to throw off any suspicion. Neville created a persona named Julius Longbottom, 6'2", 23 and blonde, designed as his complete antithesis. The Weasleys were a right mess.

"Should we be identical, though, Georgie?"

"Good point. I mean, there can only be so many twins out there."

"I'm still more handsome than you."

"We're identical, Freddie, you git."

"If you're a git, I'm a git."

"Shut up!" Ginny complained. "Will you get over here and tell us whether you're part of the family, or not?"

"What family?" The twins asked as one.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Ron and I are taking the Prewett name."

"You're extinct." Fred said flatly.

George nodded. "Mum's the only one left."

"We moved to America during the revolution but moved back because the muggles were getting too dangerous, especially in Texas," Ron said seriously. "They've got firelegs."

"Four Prewetts showing up while 4 Weasleys are incognito is going to raise a lot of eyebrows," Harry mused. "Perhaps the twins should branch off after all."

"It's not like we admit you're family anyway," Fred nodded cheerily.

"Well," Ginny said, as the twins put their heads together and started conspiring, "All Prewetts are redheads, so that fixes that issue. I'll have green eyes and… make me taller and broader. Like the twins. You can call me Iolanthe Prewett."

Hermione nodded, scribbling it down, then looked to Ron, who said, "Hazel eyes, wipe the freckles, snub nose, and about 2 inches shorter. I'll be Rionach Prewett."

Harry peeped over at Hermione's notes, then turned to the twins, who were still whispering animatedly to each other. "Are you guys ready?"

Fred nodded. "Introducing Julius –"

" – and Titus –" George added.

"Selwyn-Grey." They both bowed as they finished together.

"What's with the accents?" Lee asked with a snort.

"My dear man!" Fred cried. "By the shine of my golden hair!"

"We're from the land of Oz," George continued imperiously. "Seek my blue eyes, you know it to be true!"

"Dorks," Ginny sniggered. "Prove it. Bring one of those things… what do you call it…"

"Kangaroo," Hermione said.

"Kangaroo? An easy task," Fred scoffed.

"We're bringing a crocodile," George said with pride.

"Crikey," Luna murmured, not quite concentrating again, as Hermione whimpered something about how there would probably be a crocodile in the lake by next Tuesday.

"Great," Harry said, ignoring the weirdness in front of him. "That's that done, we can focus on getting the spells covered by the end of the year. That's all, then."

"I can't wait to see what you guys pull off," Ron said, as they trooped back up to the castle proper.

Harry smirked a smirk that would have made Salazar Slytherin himself proud. "So do I, Ron, so do I."

* * *

"Ooh," Lavender sighed. "They have such a pretty uniform…"

Parvati nodded in agreement. "It makes ours look so gross…"

"I can't believe Viktor Krum's still in school!" Seamus exclaimed.

As the feast began and food appeared on everyone's plates, Ron shot Harry a quizzical glance before grabbing a platter of chicken. Harry distinctly saw Hermione roll her eyes, to which Ron responded by looking down at his food as if it was going to grow legs and run off. With a sigh, Hermione picked up a little food and started eating herself. Ron, seeming satisfied that nothing was going to explode in his face, began stuffing himself.

Harry looked over to the Ravenclaw table and caught sight of Moaning Myrtle talking with Luna. Myrtle didn't exactly look happy, but she wasn't crying, which was always an improvement. She'd listened in on a few parts of the Hallowe'en plot and with a little coaxing had agreed to appear at the feast – after all, it would be nice to see someone else made fun of. Myrtle was interesting when she wasn't busy moping – shy with Harry, flirty with the other boys, serious with Hermione, and plotting and slightly evil alongside Ginny. Honestly, it was probably dangerous.

At around Ron's third helping – which honestly didn't take long – Ginny finally kicked the plan into gear with the activation key – a very specific sentence they'd spent ages rehearsing beforehand. Turning to Colin Creevey, she chirped, "I think it'll be very interesting to have the other schools here. After the whole snake thing, and then the dementors, I think a little International spirit is just what we need. Shame about the Quidditch, though."

As she finished, Harry started counting down in his head. Ten, nine, eight…

"I hear Durmstrang teaches the Dark Arts," a fifth-year whispered to another.

Seven, six, five, four…

"Did you see that girl? Gorgeous…"

Three, two, one, zero.

Right on cue, Fred's snuff-it-out charm (at least, that was what he had proudly declared it) extinguished every candle and Jack-o-Lantern in the hall, plunging it into darkness. A few girls screamed, a few more squealed, a couple of people swore, and someone from the opposite side of the hall started grumbling about 'Damn whiskey'. Moody fired a jinx off into the hall, Dumbledore stayed silent, and Snape simply looked more like a bat than ever.

"Lumos," Flitwick said, lighting up most of the staff table for the students. Harry started counting again. Five, four…

"All seems fine," Flitwick commented to McGonagall.

Three, two, one, zero.

There was a loud thumping noise, like an elephant's footstep. Then another, and another, louder and louder until the floor seemed to be shaking. The doors to the hall burst open, and in walked a troll exactly like the one that had rampaged through the dungeons in first year. It was quickly flanked by another, then two more, smaller ones. A couple of people screamed. Half of Ravenclaw had their wands out; Hufflepuff seemed to be considering whether the trolls were simply hungry. Gryffindor looked like it was about to start throwing plates. The Beauxbatons delegation looked disapproving and unnerved at the same time – Madame Maxime looked like she might take the trolls on herself if it touched her students. The Durmstrang contingent looked mildly interested. Meanwhile, the trolls lumbered up the staff table, causing everyone in its way to either scramble away or draw their wand. The leader reached its destination, stared at the shocked staff, raised its club (to several more screams and half a dozen hexes) and brought it down directly at the Headmaster, who looked like he was seriously regretting his wine. It made contact with the table –

BOOM.

The trolls exploded in a cloud of dust, nothing but an apparition. Dumbledore jumped in shock as he was covered in soot but regained his composure. Nothing but a silly prank, anyway…

There was the sound of firecrackers going off, and the Jack-o-Lanterns, now magically enchanted, flickered back into life, spewing sparks everywhere. A few set fire to the tables nearby, causing the tables' inhabitants to hurriedly put them out. Then, out of the darkness, glowing letters appeared.

_Greetings, Hogwarts and guests._

_For those who do not know us, we are The Gang._

_We brought you trouble last year, and will continue to do so this year._

_We are still around, and we are still recruiting._

_You. You know who you are, and you know what you did._

_Since you're all here together, we figured it's time to show some house spirit…_

_Happy Hallowe'en. Something always seems to go wrong, so we thought we'd celebrate the anniversary of the 'Troll in the Bathroom' incident._

_Enjoy the peace while it lasts._

_Love, Mister Honeysnout, Miss Wishbone, Mister Silver, and Co._

With that, the message faded away into pinpricks of light that fell, glittering, down onto the watching people as Fred's snuff-it-out charm finally failed and the lights turned back on.

"I knew they weren't gone," Ron grinned as soon as the chatter came back into the hall.

"That was scary," Lavender said in a small voice.

"What do you think they were saying about that mystery person?" Hermione asked thoughtfully.

"Trust you to ask a question like that," Dean grinned.

"That was good," Ron murmured, not really concentrating to Harry as they left the feast. They slipped through the door, and Harry smiled as the final piece fell into place, magic washing over them just strongly enough for him to feel. Ron, however, frowned. "But what was that about House Spirit?"

Harry smirked and pulled at the Gryffindor crest on his robes. "Notice anything?"

Ron squinted. "Well, I – blimey, Harry, that looks a little – BLOODY HELL!"

Instead of the normal fiercely growling lion, there was a decidedly more goofy looking one with lopsided eyes. Beneath it, instead of the normal house name, were two words proudly proclaiming Harry was of the house 'Fluffy Kitties'. Harry pointed to his head, too, and Ron blinked as her realised his family appeared to have acquired a new member, if the bright red mop was anything to go by.

"What else happened?" Ron asked, vaguely as not to arouse suspicion.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, if Luna's anything to go by, Ravenclaw has been renamed 'KFC' and all the members are now sporting blue hair."

"My kind of house," Ron beamed. Hermione had introduced him to KFC once and sorely regretted it. "What about Hufflepuff?" He craned his neck to look at the students around him. "Hey, MacMillan!"

"Weasley?" Ernie replied.

"What's on your House Crest?"

Ernie blinked before looking down. "Hufflepuff – wait – that doesn't say Hufflepuff – I – Ili –"

Hannah Abbot looked at it for him. "I live right next to the kitchens and I bite."

"I don't bite!" Ernie protested.

Hannah giggled, slung an arm over his shoulder, and led the pompous boy off.

"I wonder what's on Slytherin?" Seamus wondered as he sat on his bed in pyjamas, gazing at his robes.

Neville gave a contented sigh before handing a photo to him. "See for yourself," he said, before adding, in response to Seamus's raised eyebrow, "Ginny got it off Colin."

Draco Malfoy was scowling at the camera, hair an acid green colour, trying and failing to cover up a crest that loudly declared he was from house 'Dangerous Pasta Noodles'.


	5. A Wild Dobby Appeared!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goblet happens. Harry is pissed. Dumbledore attempts mind control. Dobby appears and promptly gets sent to the Marauder house. The Marauder house is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

Dumbledore was furiously striding around his office. It had been a long time since he got this worked up. That time, he hadn't been so old his bones creaked when he moved.

"What am I meant to do about it, Fawkes?" he asked the bird on its perch. "They're going to ruin my plans. They get better and better at it!"

Fawkes chirruped in a manner hardly stately.

Dumbledore sat himself down in the door, growling. "I'll have to make sure that whoever it is, they don't get away with it. But how?"

He sat thinking, watching his collection of silver instruments puffing out smoke. Suddenly, an idea came to him, and he smiled to himself. He called for the house elves, and within seconds there were at least eighty crowded into the office.

"What is Headmaster Dumbly wanting, sir?" their leader, an old elf by the name of Blinky, asked.

"See these?" He held up a rack of potions. As the elves nodded, he explained. "I have stock of these potions in the dungeons, at the very back. Add twice the ordinary dose to everyone's food, except for the magical dampeners," Dumbledore ordered.

Blinky nodded. "Yes, Headmaster Dumbly, sir."

With a loud crack that would have rivalled even the greatest of thunder, the house-elves popped off back to the kitchen. Dumbledore leant back in his chair, pleased at this. He could dose everyone, solve his problem, gain some loyal followers, and was safe from interrogation.

He hadn't counted on one of his newer recruits, an elf with oversized ears, even for his kin, and a pair of mismatched socks.

 _Dobby's Harry Potter is in the castle,_ the elf thought to itself. _Headmaster Dumbly is giving Hogwarts people potions._ His tennis ball eyes popped suddenly.

_Dobby's Harry Potter is getting potions! Potions is bad! Potions is changing Dobby's Harry Potter's mind! Dobby is helping Harry Potter! Not saving! Just helping!_

With that happy thought, Dobby grabbed the first thing he could think of (which happened to be a mould infestation from the back of the kitchen), popped down to the dungeons, and dumped the mould in the potions. _There!_ He thought. _Dobby is helping Harry Potter! Harry Potter is not getting potions!_

Pleased with himself, Dobby pulled his socks up, watched the mould dissolve into the potions, and trotted off. With the Knut he had left over from his pay that week, he couldn't buy more wool, but he could buy a nice piece of candy. Dobby was fond of Ice Mice, and Dobby was pretty sure he had earned it. For now, he would have to obey the Headmaster's instruction. But come the end of the week, or at least a summons, Dobby would be meeting with the Boy-Who-Lived for something very important.

* * *

Harry was beyond pissed.

"Magically binding!" he raged, storming into the Chamber, a concerned Hermione and mildly irate Ron right behind him.

"How'd you get it in?" George asked eagerly.

"I DIDN'T!" Harry roared. "How stupid do you think I am, George?"

"Well," Fred said, "We are Gryffindors. Stupid is in our blood just like Hufflepuffs are compelled to raid the kitchens."

Harry started hitting his head against the cold, hard surface of the stone table Hermione had created for them.

"Fred, you're attracting Wrackspurts," Luna scolded.

"Okay, say you didn't put your name in," Ron proposed. "Why would someone else put it in?"

"I don't know! I suppose they want to kill me," Harry huffed, attempting to continue damaging his brain as Hermione grabbed the back of his head, stopping him.

"That's too obvious!" Lee protested. Ginny snorted.

Hermione, who had been managing to look worried and deep in thought at the same time, spoke up. "Maybe Dumbledore wants to use this as a way of getting you on his good side."

"Are you kidding?" Harry asked. "If he's doing that, he's finally gone senile."

"In other news, the crop of acne that's just showed up is restricted to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff," Neville commented. "Ravenclaw figured out a way around it, and I don't know about Slytherin, because I'm not about to ask Malfoy if he's had a zit problem."

"Ron, you try and think about how they're fitting together," Ginny ordered. "Neville and Hermione, go figure out something to keep Harry alive. The rest of us can add in when needed."

"Who put you in charge, Ginnykins?" Fred asked.

"Don't call me Ginnykins," Ginny hissed, sticking her wand under his chin.

"Oh yeah, we're all unusually aggressive. That might be related," Lee commented. "So far I've counted fifteen brawls and that's if you forget about the fact Slytherin and Gryffindor are perpetually trying to off each other. Quidditch isn't even here to create the hostility."

"We've got to plan around the tournament now, and keep Harry alive," Neville said grumpily. "And I was really looking forward to scaring Durmstrang."

"We don't have to give that up! Don't wait on my account!" Harry exclaimed.

"We don't have much choice. You're good, but not that good," Hermione said gently. "We need to focus on you at the moment. We've got two options, Lord V-Voldemort, or Dumbledore, and neither of them is good."

"There's no chance it's not either of them?" Ginny asked, with a touch of desperation. "Like, some prank gone wrong or something?"

"The Cup is magically enchanted. It was a very strong warlock," Luna murmured.

"That's what Moody said," Harry said gloomily.

"I don't like him," Luna commented blandly.

Ron, who had managed to stay silent, suddenly jumped up. "I've got it!"

"Nice to see he's actually grown a brain and the last few months weren't a fluke," Fred commented to George, who snickered.

Ron ignored them. "My jealousy potion was keyed to now! And what's more, we never fully purged them from our systems! I can feel it, I was only able to come down because we're in so deep now!" He swung around to the others. "So Dumbledore knows. But, Dumbledore can't put the slip in himself, because the Cup will self-destruct if tampered with by a Headmaster of either of the schools, right, Hermione?"

Hermione looked pleased that he'd remembered. "Yes, Ron."

"So he knows, but it's not him. Now, think of things this way. Voldemort wants to kill you, so he somehow enters you in – a spy, a proxy, possession, anything – but Dumbledore won't let you die. You get through, and BAM!"

"What's bam?" Neville asked.

Ron blinked. "Right, you weren't there – Harry, you had a recklessness potion! What better way to prime you for it?"

"Now we just need to figure out how," Hermione finished.

"No," Ginny said slowly. As the others looked blankly at her, she started pacing around. "We need to protect Harry. If the essence of the plan is just to make Harry more reckless, we don't need to worry about Dumbledore. Just pretend you're crazy. No-one needs to know you have a plan. Nothing on our part required. Next, we train Harry. Okay, so offensive spells. We also need to up the ante on our pranks, right? So what do we incorporate? Offensive spells. Imagine walking down the corridor. You think you're safe. The tournament's on, Fred or George just turned the lake bright green and have kidnapped the giant squid, or something. Everything's fine, and then one of the suits of armour starts shooting off magic indiscriminately." She turned to Hermione. "There's a way to do that, right? I really want to do it."

"I think so. I might need Luna's help to engineer it, but I'm sure we can pull of the magic," Hermione replied. "If we use some kind of capture… then you, Fred, and George can give us suggestions to load it…"

"We can all pretend to be scared for Harry," Ron added. "Then, if we pull it off the day before, no-one suspects us. Especially not if we initially target our own house…"

"Seamus would love it. He'd also blow the castle sky high…" Harry shook his head. "Imagine that…"

"I think I'm scared of that, honestly," Neville shuddered.

"We still get to –"

"Kidnap the squid –"

"Right?" The twins asked.

"Yes, you can kidnap the squid," Harry grumbled. "Just keep it away from me."

"So what's the plan going forwards?" Lee asked. "And by the way, I want in on the squidnapping."

"I'll act jealous while gathering information on routines and all that," Ron decided. "Hermione and Luna will work on the armour. Get it done as soon as possible, please. Fred, George, and Lee, kidnap the squid whenever you like, it doesn't matter. Hermione, make it obvious you're worried about Harry. You too, Ginny. I don't know, pretend you're lovesick or something." He narrowly dodged the jinx she sent his way. "Bloody hell. We'll all come up with our best jinxes and hexes for the armour and execute it a day before the task. Make sure they'll attack us too, I think, or it'll be very suspicious. Do you think that's enough?"

"Definitely," Neville said. "If I wasn't in on this, I'd be terrified."

"Is that all? I'm hungry," Ron said seriously.

"Well, dinner's over," Hermione scolded. "You already ate enough then, anyway."

"Maybe if we had a House Elf we could get free food without having to sneak into the kitchens," Ron mumbled thoughtfully.

"What, like Dobby?" Harry asked.

Before Ron could reply, there was a popping noise and Dobby appeared smack in the middle of the table, upsetting Hermione's parchment. "Harry Potter is summoning Dobby!" The house elf looked around. "It is being very damp in here… Dobby is having informations! Very important informations!"

"Er…" Harry wasn't sure how to tell Dobby he hadn't called him.

"Headmaster Dumbly is being a bad man!" Dobby burst out into the silence, before grabbing onto the nearest thing and hitting himself over the head with it. It was Hermione's quill, and, being light, didn't do much.

"Stop it!" Harry grabbed Dobby's hand, concerned he might pick something heavier next time. "Dobby, why is the Headmaster being – what's he doing?"

"Headmaster Dumbly is being potioning the students! Potioning the students MORE than is being normal! Potions is bad! Dobby is adding mould to the potions. Dobby is not saving Harry Potter, just helping!"

"I see," Harry said quietly.

"That explains the acne," Neville laughed.

"Thank you, Dobby," Hermione said, as Dobby beamed. "You've been very helpful." She turned to the others. "How does this effect out plans?"

"The aggression is probably due to the potions, too," Fred said slowly. "If we had a sample, we could sabotage it somehow…"

"We can still go ahead with the plan," Harry added. "We just have to work this in."

"We must be careful," Luna murmured. "The bumblebee is extending his web and we cannot rely on anyone but ourselves."

After the meeting, Dobby tentatively approached Harry. "Harry Potter, sir?"

"Just Harry, Dobby," Harry sighed. "Yes, what is it?"

"Dobby is wanting to work, Harry Po – Harry. But, Headmaster Dumbly is being a bad wizard… Dobby is not wanting to work with bad wizards."

"I understand," Harry said gently, as Hermione and Ron trotted over to see what was the matter.

Dobby nodded, twisting his ears slightly. "Harry Potter, sir, Dobby is wondering if, when Dobby's contract is up, Dobby is being able to work for Harry Potter, sir."

"Me? Why me, Dobby?"

"Dobby is wanting to help Harry Potter!" the house elf exclaimed. "Dobby is being able to help spy on Headmaster, or help Harry Potter's Gang, or Harry's Wheezy and Grangy, or Harry's Snuffly –"

"How did he find out about that?" Ron whispered to Hermione, who shrugged helplessly.

"– Dobby is helping! Dobby is not asking much, just one galleon a month and one day off –"

"You have to pay him more than that, Harry!" Hermione protested shrilly.

"We'll figure it out later," Harry said hastily. "Dobby, I would love to employ you as my elf, but I don't want you to get bored, or for you to hurt yourself."

"Dobby is not being bored! Dobby can be cleaning up here – not the fronty bit, just this bit – and helping here and there, and when Dobby has no work, Dobby is knitting socks! Socks is Dobby's favourite clothes," the house elf chirped.

"I suppose – oof!" Harry nearly fell over as the house elf hugged him very tightly. Hermione was still muttering to herself about house elf rights, though more thoughtfully than indignantly now.

"Dobby is Harry Potter's free elf!" Dobby sang, bouncing around. "What is Harry Potter needing doings?"

"Um… maybe could you help us clean up? Leave the dead snake, please, we're going to deal with that later, but you're right about it being damp in here. Don't work yourself too hard. When you're done, or need a rest, I guess you can go to Padfoot's…"

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby cheered, whizzing off.

"It's just Harry!" the Boy-Who-Lived called futilely after him.

* * *

"Sirius."

It had taken a lot of work to convince Remus Lupin to stay with Harry's godfather. Bribery certainly didn't work and seemed to offend the man no end; neither did appealing to his sense of dignity, as what remained of it was rather oddly twisted. In the end, Sirius and Harry had resorted to a combination of incessant nagging, shameless begging, and blackmail. Despite his time as a Professor, it seemed no-one had informed the unfortunate werewolf that Muggle duct-tape was quite dangerous when combined with makeup palettes, especially when the palettes had been bought off one Lavender Brown.

Thus, Moony had stayed on pain of embarrassment, nagging, and having to put up with both Sirius and Harry acting in a manner that's dignity was far lower than anything he might have achieved. That was why he was currently peeping into the kitchen, where Sirius was making chocolate cake for dinner. "Padfoot? There's a crazy house-elf in your living room."

"Tell Kreacher to go do something else. Clean Black Manor or something, since we sold Grimmauld place."

"It's not Kreacher."

"Whose elf is it, then?" Sirius asked, turning around with one eyebrow raised as he dumped half a packet of sugar into a baking dish.

"He says his name is Dobby and he's Harry Potter's free elf."

"Good crazy or bad crazy?" Sirius enquired, tasting the batter.

"Well, he seems very excited about helping Harry Potter's Snuffly and his Moony –"

"Why does he get your name right?" Sirius threw his hands into the air as if being a wanted fugitive didn't make a difference to how often people should admit to being around you.

"And he's also very excited about a plot that involves people being chased by living suits of armour, and also something to do with house elves earning the right to carry wands and earn money, so good crazy, I suppose."

On cue, Dobby trotted into the kitchen. "Hello! Dobby is being Harry Potter's free elf, and Dobby is cleaning Harry Potter's Snuffly's house. Snuffly's house is being covered in dog hair. Then Dobby is eating and going to sleep, but Dobby is not sure if he is eating and sleeping here or at Hoggywarts. Dobby is coming back when he is finished!" Dobby marched back out of the kitchen, presumably to remove the Padfoot-fluff from the carpet, couch, bed, walls, table, and possibly even beneath the piano.

"Okay," Sirius said, turning back to the cake.

One problem solved, Remus moved on to the next. "Padfoot? That's not all we're eating for dinner, is it?"

"What's wrong with my cake?"

"There's nothing wrong with it, but you need to eat vegetables, Padfoot!"

"No, I need chocolate after thirteen years in Azkaban."

Remus tried again. "I need vegetables."

"You'll survive. My house, my rules."

"And I can't leave the house." Remus crossed his arms petulantly. "You're going to give both of us diabetes."

"Wizards don't get diabetes," Sirius said casually, sending the cake into the oven.

"I hate you," Remus grumbled.

"No, you don't," Sirius laughed, coming up behind him and bear-hugging the smaller man. "You love me. Everyone does."

"Careful," Remus smiled. "Your head is going to grow too big for the door soon."

"Kreacher can fix that, and if he doesn't, I guess Dobby might," Sirius grinned. "Besides, you also love chocolate."

Remus sighed, reminded all too strongly of old times. "Fine. Cake for dinner. I'm making lunch tomorrow, and you will be eating vegetables."

"You keep thinking that," Sirius chuckled, as Dobby wandered past with a large bag of dog hair and, for some reason, the unholy offspring on a vacuum cleaner and a medieval torture implement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed Ron is smarter. This is because I'm basing this off the House Theory of Harry Potter - Harry is in charge of figuring out if things are politically viable (Hiss hiss), Hermione is in charge of the complex, intelligent stuff (Caw caw), Ginny is the physical powerhouse (Roar roar), and Ron is the chessmaster to match Dumbledore (Nobody hears the Hufflepuff war cry and survives). Luna is Ravenclaw, Neville is Gryffindor, Fred/George are Slytherin, and Lee is Hufflepuff to complete an auxiliary team.  
> I asked the FF.net-ers if they liked canon Snape, mellowing Snape, or tossing Snape into a deep dark hole. Nobody replied. Damn.


	6. General Sneaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

Ah, bloody hell.

Harry was currently being chased by three suits of armour. _Three_. And – dammit, Ginny, that bat-bogey hex wasn't something he wanted to get hit with!

In consolation, though, Draco Malfoy was currently running around as a ferret because Hermione and Fred working together was a match made in the deepest circles of hell itself.

Harry was so very, very glad he'd gone with a simple expelliarmus, especially when his own spell grazed past his ear. In between plotting a way to shred the Wizengamot, figuring out what to do about a massive dragon, making sure Dobby didn't encourage Sirius to become more crazy than he already was, and pretending to spit fire at Ron, he hadn't had much time to think up complex spells, and thank god for that, because the sheer number of students who didn't know a basic shield charm was ridiculous.

Speaking of Ron, the redhead was currently sneering from one corner. "Serves you right, Potter."

Harry didn't have the brain power necessary to come up with a decent reply. "Stuff you, Weasley!" he yelled back as a stray petrificus totalus marked the ground in front of his feet.

The cycle resumed, with Harry sometimes shielding, sometimes running, sometimes dodging, snarling at almost everyone he passed. He spared a genuinely vicious glare for Ernie MacMillan. Hufflepuff or not, the boy was either very susceptible to potions, or, as Snape would say, a dunderhead. Too bad no-one had managed to crack a safe way to fix the potions; then he'd have an easy way of picking up who to trust.

For now, though, outside of The Gang, he could trust no-one.

He ducked behind a tapestry and slowed to a halt, panting as he heard the suits of armour clatter off down the hallway. Fred and George had been reluctant to allow for the tapestries as a fail-safe, but Harry had insisted, citing health, safety, and Peeves. It appeared he wasn't the only person who appreciated it.

"Hello," Luna smiled, swinging her legs as she perched barefoot on a window ledge. "You really should be more careful."

"I wish I'd listened when Hermione said all that stuff about group theory," Harry moaned. "Three, and they'll be stuck together for the rest of the day. By the end of this, they'll be moving as a pack!"

"You're stressed," Luna commented.

"I've got a lot on my plate at the moment," Harry replied, frustrated. "I mean – the next Wizengamot meeting is next week and we still haven't got a plan. And the dragon – don't get me wrong, I can fly alright – but it's a dragon, Luna!"

"Mm," Luna hummed. "Maybe there is a better way?"

"I don't know," Harry groaned. "I don't think Cedric has anything near a decent plan, how am I meant to know anything?"

"You're the chosen one," Luna stated lightly.

"The Chosen One is bollocks," Harry growled.

Luna tilted her head. "I know. But that's what they think. People often think in strange ways."

Harry sat down beside her. "If Moody didn't give me the hint, and if Hagrid didn't show me the dragons, I'd be screwed."

"I don't like him," Luna sighed.

"Hagrid?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No, Professor Moody," Luna corrected him. She sat in silence for a moment, before standing up. "I need to go check on the Thestrals. I'll see you later, Harry," she smiled.

"The whats?" Harry asked, but Luna had already vanished.

* * *

"Accio Fi – wait."

…

"Accio Golden Egg."

Nothing.

"Wingardium Leviosa Golden Egg?"

Most of the girls in the crowd screamed as Harry legged it out of the stadium with a floating egg twelve feet behind him and a dragon thirteen feet behind.

"YOU FORGOT ZE ANTI-LEVITATION CHARM ON ZE EGG?!" Madam Maxime shrieked at Dumbledore. "TU ES UN HOMME TRÈS STUPIDE, DUMBLYDOOR!"

"What just happened?" Cedric asked.

"Magic," Harry replied smugly, listening to Madam Maxime ranting and Karkaroff slipping in sly comments.

"HARRY!" Hermione shrieked, barrelling into the medical tent, much to Madam Pomfrey's chagrin. "Oh – that was clever – I thought it was going to eat you, though – well done!"

"You're going to suffocate me," Harry said weakly. Hermione ignored him. "You scared us," she said instead.

As if on cue, Ron walked in. Madam Pomfrey bristled. "Mate," he said. "I – think somebody's trying to kill you."

"You only just worked that out?" Harry asked with carefully practiced coolness.

"Eh… I…" Ron looked apologetic, and Harry smiled.

"Forget it, mate."

"But I –"

"Forget it. It's past."

Ron smiled and Hermione attempted to strangle them both in a very tight hug.

"Well done, Harrikins!" Fred and George chorused as they invaded the tent with their beaming sister.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Madam Pomfrey moaned. "Potter, either send your friends out, or go with them! You'll disturb my patients!"

* * *

"Weird," Ron commented, poking himself in the face. The first instance of sneaking out was to occur that day, the day after Harry nearly got himself eaten by a dragon, and though most of The Gang wasn't going, they had tried out all the disguises anyway. Ron, for one, was fascinated with his short nose.

"Yes, you are," Fred agreed, blue eyes twinkling a little too much like Dumbledore's.

Hermione rolled her own eyes. "Do you have the papers, Harry?"

"Yeah, right here," Harry replied, holding up a scroll.

"Excellent," Hermione smiled, before stealing Harry's glasses off his face and slipping them into her pocket. "Can you see alright?"

"I am completely and utterly blind," Harry informed her flatly.

"Sometimes the blind see better than others," Luna told them all sagely.

"Yeah… but Harry kind of needs to know who he's talking to," Lee pointed out. "Especially if he wants to pull this off."

"I don't see why he can't just wear them," George said, frowning. "I mean, if his dad wore them, it clearly runs in the family."

"Yeah, well, these are my old glasses," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I've been wearing them since I can remember, and they're a little distinctive…"

"We'll get you another pair of glasses when we get there," Hermione said impatiently, peering over Ron's shoulder at the map. "For now, those of us sneaking out need to get going… what with Snape and Flitwick both having rounds we won't have another window for an hour and a half."

"Yeah… good point… we'll work on figuring out how to stop the suits of armour," Ron sighed. "You'd think the teachers'd do the job for us…"

"It's be a lot easier for them if they weren't fighting five at a time," Ginny pointed out slightly too gleefully.

"Or if they were only firing basic duelling spells," Neville added. "Go on, Harry, Hermione, Luna, or you'll be late."

"Right. Luna, you've got the portkey?" Harry asked, picking up the scroll and putting it in his pocket.

"Here," she smiled, pulling out a quill. "Hold on here."

Harry, Hermione and Luna grabbed onto the quill, and with a quick wave, they were gone.

* * *

Harry stumbled as they arrived in Diagon Alley, as did Hermione, though Luna didn't seem to notice they had landed. As they had hoped, nobody paid them more than a second glance, though Harry fell into character as quickly as he could, just the same. "Tempus," Hermione whispered to her spare wand. "Right. We've got an hour before we have to be at the Ministry. What are we getting?"

Luna shrugged. "Glasses, parchment, quills, ink, a table we don't have to keep transfiguring back, a record on laws, and more socks."

"Titus also wants us to bring him Firewhiskey," Harry added, "We need some lionfish spine and fresh asphodel, and Rionach wants us to bring a chess table and two sets of Muggle chess pieces."

"What's that for?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno, but he specifically asked for one white and black and the other black and red," Harry replied.

"That's a lot for one hour," Hermione said.

"Fifty-seven minutes," Luna corrected her dreamily.

The parchment, quills, and ink were simple enough, and the trio stepped out of Scrivenshaft's with more than enough scrolls, notebooks and inkpots to last them the year, though the copious amount of goods brought something to Hermione's attention.

"We can't carry all this around, or into the Wizengamot chambers," she observed. "We need somewhere better to put them."

"Why not call Dobby?" Luna asked. "He's a lovely fellow."

"Yeah, but what if someone recognizes him?" Harry asked. "He was a Malfoy house elf, after all…"

"What are the chances?" Hermione asked.

"Low, but higher the longer we keep him around. Especially if he keeps coming and going…"

"We could get some bags or trunks," Luna suggested. "Daddy has one at home that's smaller on the outside. We use it when we go hunting for Crumple-Horned Snorcacks."

"An Indetectable Extension Charm?" Hermione questioned, and when Luna nodded, she did too, though slower. "That could work well… where could we buy them?"

"There's a shop down here," Luna smiled. "Twill's Trunks. I think they sell bags too…"

"We don't want to carry too much," Harry warned them, as they began down the lane. "Most purebloods here don't, I noticed."

"That is true," Hermione sighed. "Maybe if we just let you carry everything?"

"Why me?" Harry groaned.

"Because, it's probably considered polite," Hermione guessed. "And because I don't want to carry anything."

"Mean woman," Harry groused, to Luna's tinkling laughter.

Twill's did, in fact have bags, one of which Hermione bought and stuffed into the trunk, just in case the girls ever snuck out alone. Harry had never seen a trunk that was bigger on the inside, but he was very thankful of the many compartments, especially as he no longer had to carry around twelve pots of black, five pots of blue, three pots of red, three pots of green, and one pot of glittery ink. The Featherlight Charm meant the trunk felt like it was empty – not necessarily light, but certainly not heavy. This was lucky, as the next stop was at Flourish and Blotts, leading Hermione to get a little carried away.

"Emma, please," Harry sighed. "We don't need _A Guide to Breaches of the Ban on Experimental Breeding_."

"But what if we meet one of these things?" Hermione protested.

"If you bring that home, Titus and Julius will probably try it," Harry reasoned.

"Next you'll say I don't need _Combative Use of Household Charms_ ," Hermione whined.

Harry sighed again. "Emma… you're a smart person, you don't need the book to spell it out for you."

Hermione sulked, despite managing to justify another seventeen books.

Luna went off to Twillfits and Tatting's to buy socks while Harry dragged Hermione to the apothecary, buying a small amount of lionfish and asphodel.

"I never realised asphodel was a flower," Harry commented, as he passed six sickles over to the witch behind the counter.

"It's a type of lily, according to 1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi," Hermione said immediately, "And it's associated with melancholy. In Greek Mythology, there's an entire field of them in the underworld, and its where all the mediocre souls go."

"Mediocre?" Harry asked, thanking the witch and taking the ingredients.

"Yes, people who weren't heroes but also weren't evil," Hermione confirmed, opening up the trunk and stuffing the ingredients in next to the quills.

"That's depressing," Harry commented, as Luna arrived with a large, lumpy package. "Tempus. Half an hour. What's next?"

"Tables, chessmen… we can get the firewhiskey when we get back," Hermione said.

"There's a furniture shop in Sacerdot Alley," Luna said. "I've been there. It's a bit seedier than Diagon, but much safer than Knockturn."

"I guess we could try there, then," Hermione said somewhat nervously.

"Don't worry, Emma," Luna said gently, taking her hand and walking down to the Alley. "Look, here it is, just at the entrance."

"Welcome!" chirped an overenthusiastic sales clerk as they walked through the door. "What might I get for you fine magicals today?"

"We'll have to go straight to the Ministry after this," Harry whispered.

"That's if this guy stops talking," Hermione commented, watching the clerk chatter on about everything in the room as Luna nodded seriously, apparently deep in thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, put the bottles down and slowly back away...


	7. Political Weaponry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff catches fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

Harry smirked to himself as a blustering wizard steadily turned redder and redder in the face. Hermione, as Emma, was calmly reading through a sheet of parchment – the sheet meant to allow her to take her seat. According to the page, she was not an offshoot of the main line as the real Hermione was, but the descendant of a second son – enough to be legitimate, but not enough to cause problems when Hermione was fully grown. Half the Wizengamot had protested the new arrivals, but they hadn't factored in the entire Golden trio working on the permission sheets. In between Harry thinking up strange wording, Hermione finding obscure laws, and Ron being permanently seven steps into the future, everything was entirely watertight.

The ascension Circe Lovegood had passed with little problem. Nobody wanted the Lovegood seat anyway, because they said anyone who sat in it became insane. This may have been true, but Luna was a little dotty anyway, so it wasn't like that was a real danger. 'Circe' had taken the Lovegood seat, sat down primly, pulled out a notebook, and started taking notes on the proceedings. Apart from a few people wondering which was the family of nutcases was going to vote, nothing much happened. Pandora had not passed a seat on – it was currently dormant, to be taken up by a proxy in 20 years if left unclaimed. The Lovegood seat, by all rights, should have had a proxy, having been dormant for 30 – but, due to the aforementioned insanity problem, the vote had been left to sleep instead. This was convenient, as barely anyone could remember or care to remember which way the Lovegoods had voted in the first place, meaning alliances were quite easily thrown out the window.

Adonis had been a little more difficult, owing to a proxy who didn't much want to move. Elphias Dodge seemed unsettled more than angry, clearly appointed by order of Dumbledore – Harry wondered if his father had ever voted on the Wizengamot. After all, he hadn't even been 25 when he died. That didn't leave a whole lot of time for things such as politics. Especially as his father had been, by all accounts, a Gryffindor in blood, body, soul, and reckless mind. Dodge spent ten whole minutes questioning 'Adonis' on his motives, going from his manner of meeting Harry to whether he might be a Death Eater in disguise, and even going so far as to question his political motives, considering that Potter had been a consistently light for the last 400 years. Eventually, 'Adonis' had lost his patience, idly suggesting a number of rather dangerous ways of ratifying his identity, including Veritaserum, oaths, and Unbreakable Vows, along with a rather obscure method of sealing magical promises that involved a lot of sand, a silver knife, and half a pint of melted goat's cheese. The bluff, for that was what is had been, at least in part, paid off. Dodge relinquished the seat, slightly reluctantly and no doubt aware of the Chief Warlock's slight off expression, but apparently satisfied that Adonis was not about to murder Harry Potter in his sleep after all.

'Emma', on the other hand, was currently explaining in rather a condescending manner to a Pavo Selwyn how she bled far more of the noble blood of house Bellerose than he ever could. And as for Lyrus Urquhart, he hadn't even a drop of Dagworth-Granger in him, and perhaps he ought to stop interfering in the affairs of another noble house.

"But the girl's a Mudblood," Lyrus whined.

"He's right, you know," a short, stubby Ministry employee simpered. "The girl was born to Muggles of all things."

"That may be," Emma sneered, "Yet she holds more nobility in her blood than half of the people sitting in this room. I will be safeguarding the seat until her ascension. I came all the way from Paris for this; I will not be bowing down to some puffed-up, entitled line-thieves. I assure you, I will not be doing anything so foolish that it might… attract attention. Unless you would rather she take up the seats now? I might approach her, if you find my presence so interolerable. My claim is solid – hers is unshakeable."

"I think dear Pavo is about to explode," Circe whispered in a fascinated tone from her seat next to Adonis. "Do you think we ought to use a shield charm?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will get over it," Adonis smiled, ignoring the shocked noise two seats behind him. "Perhaps they are not quite so strict on their traditions here?"

Circe cocked her head slightly as Emma began ripping into Lyrus, displaying a massive, gaudy (and fake) lineage chart for her own and a neater, slightly less sparkly (but real) one for Hermione, as she proceeded to question his own parentage. The unfortunate man looked as if he was about to have an aneurysm. "Perhaps. Where were you from again?"

Adonis's golden eyes sparkled. "Spain. But we moved back to dear Ireland when I was very young. I must say, it's a little colder here. You?"

"Romania. The sun didn't agree with me much, and there weren't many interesting animals," Circe replied quietly. "Well, the dragons were wonderful, especially Sorin… Oh, my, your dear Emma appears to be close to committing murder in the chamber."

"Of course," Adonis replied. "All Bellerose women have rather… thorny tempers."

"They have always attracted Fluttering Butterwarps in the past," Circe agreed. "And they shall in the future."

"She's crazy…" Vega Blishwick muttered behind them.

"Oh, perhaps," Adonis smiled, turning as Vega jumped in shock. He was perfectly aware that Vega was referring to Circe, but wasn't about to let this opportunity pass by. "But I think you'll have Pavo and Lyrus back in one piece. Emma is rather skilled, she'll take care not to kill them. Don't worry."

Vega looked the opposite of comforted.

* * *

"That was ridiculously protracted," Emma sighed, delicately sitting at Adonis's other side and scribbling down the implications of a number of bills that were to be voted on. Unfortunately, they'd be evaluating this session's bills on the spot.

"I agree. Romania was a much more effective system, Emma Granger. But I'm afraid dear Xenophilius needed me, and here I am…" Luna sighed, leaning back in her seat. Wizengamot seats were magical – there were enough seats for each family, with seats sitting empty if unclaimed or melding into one if someone claimed multiple in a single name. Luna's was a simple wooden chair, with swirling carvings around the edge of the backrest and a cushion coloured midway between sapphire and silver.

"The Wizengamot calls to debate the bill on the restriction on the widths of cauldron bottoms…" Dumbledore blinked at his parchment, then looked up as an overeager Percy Weasley bounced down to the floor, speech in hand, and began a treatise on how under-standard cauldrons could endanger the safety of the wizarding community.

A slightly harassed but proud looking Arthur Weasley shifted, two rows away, shuffling what were obviously work papers around as he tried to be attentive and catch up on work at the same time. Adonis pretended to be interested, but figured he may as well just vote yes, considering how often Neville's minor potions catastrophes seemed to want to eat their way through solid stone.

The bill passed. "The Wizengamot calls to debate the bill on the standard weight used to define a pound," Dumbledore sighed, and Lucius Malfoy came down to tell everyone how they had been using a standard amount of river water, when they ought to have been using a standard amount of pure water.

"Why would he bring that up?" Adonis whispered to Emma.

"River water is heavier," Emma said vaguely.

"Pure water – is he talking about conjured water, spring water, or filtered water?" Circe asked.

"You'd have to ask him," Emma replied, noting down Lucius's name and proposed bill at the back of her notebook.

"Is he involved in business?" Adonis furrowed his brow. "That would make sense…"

"Malfoys have always been business people. Well, mostly," Circe said dreamily. "A few were tattoo artists… Lucius is such an uptight soul, is he not?"

"Mmm… Adonis frowned. "Changing the definition to lighter, pure water would cause Malfoy to make more money, since most wouldn't notice, but he'd be able to sell less stock as a single pound…"

"This is boring," Circe sighed. "I wish I were out with the thestrals."

"In an hour, Circe," Adonis said soothingly. "Now, let me think, what would this bill actually do?"

In then end, Adonis abstained, Emma voted against, and Circe voted for. The bill failed, mostly because few of the Wizengamot actually cared about whether they were using river water or pure water.

"Foolish," Adonis mused. "That would have benefited most of the people here."

Dumbledore shuffled his papers. "The Wizengamot calls to debate the bill on the restriction on inter-continental Portkeys."

Adonis watched as Rufus Scrimgeour and Rodolphus Urquhart faced off against each other. Scrimgeour was adamant that inter-continental Portkeys were a security risk, while Urquhart thought it was every pure-blood's right to use such Portkeys, as they had for generations, if they so wished to take a break.

"Finally, a complex one," Emma said eagerly, leaning forward and listening intently.

"Scrimgeour has a point," Adonis whispered. "If someone has one of those, they can just leave the country, and poof! Out of jurisdiction."

"They are the best way to travel, though," Circe murmured. "Even if they are mostly in pure-blood hands, making many rather attractive to the Wuffles."

"What do you think, Madam Longbottom?" Emma asked politely, twisting around slightly to look at Neville's gran, who was frowning to herself.

"Well, Urquhart is right, but…" Augusta Longbottom frowned, vulture wobbling precariously atop her head. "Those portkeys led a lot of Death Eaters to escape, I'm sure, in the early years of the war, including, multiple times, those reprobates who attacked my children."

"I see…" Emma murmured, before turning to Adonis. "Then again, if they'd had the portkeys themselves… this is a complex one."

"If it fails, we could push for a mid-way bill," Adonis suggested. "Something that allows them if they're registered, perhaps?"

"That wouldn't keep them safe," Emma protested. "There's not much point in that."

Adonis raised his eyebrows, before turning to Circe, who smiled serenely, in a manner similar to how she'd smiled before Lee informed Hermione that he wanted to know more about this 'Floor Is Lava'. He turned back to Emma. "I've got a way around that, and I think Circe knows what I'm thinking. Vote against, and propose the bill. Trust me on this," he breathed, barely loud enough for Emma to hear, let alone anyone else.

* * *

Emma did trust him. The bill failed, but only just.

"The Wizengamot opens the floor to announcements," Dumbledore announced, and Adonis let the sound of pureblood gossip wash over him.

"House Selwyn is proud to announce the birth of a new heir, Lycoris."

"House Greengrass would like to inform the Wizengamot of the unfortunate passing of Mrs Leta Greengrass, the former Leta Yaxley, at the age of 137."

"Did they really just announce a party?" Emma whispered.

"I'm afraid so," Adonis replied.

"It's a good idea," Circe hummed. "I might try that with my own parties."

Adonis felt the urge to put his face in his hands. "This is crazy…" he muttered under his breath.

Circe gently patted his shoulder as Emma shrugged and wrote down the dates in her book anyway.

"The Wizengamot opens the floor to bills," Dumbledore announced, and there was a sudden flurry of motion.

"In the wake of recent losses, House Bulstrode proposes a bill mandating that prisoners be returned to their families upon their deaths," Marcus Bulstrode said, standing up.

Dumbledore frowned to himself, then nodded. "That does not break with the Magical Charter."

"House Wentworth proposes a bill on a tax surrounding fish imports," Domitian Wentworth called out.

Dumbledore nodded. "That does not break with the Magical charter."

"Fish imports?" Adonis mouthed to Emma, who shrugged.

"House Urquhart proposes a bill mandating that Mudbloods not be allowed to take up seats until their lineages are pure once more. It is imperative that we maintain the integrity of the Wizengamot," Rodolphus said, with a malicious look towards Emma.

"That does not break with the Magical Charter."

"House Lestrange proposes a bill legalizing the use of defensive spells in the Muggle world," Phineas Lestrange wheezed, struggling to stand on aged legs.

"That… would breach the Statue of Secrecy, I'm afraid, Phineas."

Phineas growled to himself and sat down, as Augusta sighed to herself. "He brings the same bill up every time," she said wearily.

Emma frowned, thinking about walking around her neighbourhood as a muggle. "His stance is probably not what we need," she whispered. "But muggles can be dangerous if we're not careful…"

"Not much point in debating it," Adonis whispered back, "Since Dumbledore seems intent on blocking it. It doesn't overtly breach the Statue, just has the potential to, so that blockage wasn't technically legal."

Emma frowned more, but brightened up a little as Circe stood up. "We just voted on a similar bill," she said softly, her voice drifting gently across the room. "However, House Lovegood sees that the bill may have been incomplete. We propose a bill that would not restrict, but register such Portkeys upon their creation, preventing their infestation with Wuffles."

"That does not break with the Magical Charter," Dumbledore said, though he cast an interested look at the young woman, who sat down with her usual dreamy smile.

"Do you think it'll pass?" Emma asked in a low voice, as Irina Shafiq proposed a bill regulating the use of certain hexes.

"With flying colours," Adonis smiled.

* * *

"To members of the Wizengamot Circe, Emma and Adonis!" Fred yelled, George right behind him with an oversized Muggle party popper.

"Engorgement charm," Lee explained, as Hermione eyed it warily.

"Remind me how you expect me to turn a blind eye to you giving out Firewhiskey in the common room," was all she said.

"It's diluted," George protested, "And everyone gets some."

"Some of it," Neville said delicately, "Is also spiked with Puffapod sap."

Harry raised an eyebrow, though his glasses made it a little harder to see the minute expression. "Puffapod?"

"It makes you sneeze quite badly," Neville said, "But only if you eat it."

"So that's why you had us give you so many Pepper Imps," Ginny grinned viciously. "Hey, can I have a spiked one? I've always wanted to sneeze fire."

* * *

Hermione put out the fire on Ron's head as his chessmen screamed. Neville had been commandeered by Seamus and Dean, and all three were slightly tipsy in the corner. A giggling Lavender was sticking heart-shaped stickers on their faces while a bored Parvati wandered around. Said bored Parvati had been the main source of Ron's hair becoming even more like fire than normal, since Fred and George figured that collateral damage was necessary if they didn't want to be suspected for spiking the drinks.

"Pawn to C5," Harry said, over the sound of Colin gushing over the 'perfect photo he'd just captured, it was just brilliant'.

Ron scratched his nose. "Rook to E3. Best idea ever, Fred."

"Why, thank you," Fred said with a grand bow.

"Figured out what the egg says yet?" George asked.

"Nah. Knight to D4. Your research?"

"Nothing on the everlasting boils, no," George sighed. "And we're halfway through transfiguring potions, they're still not perfect."

"We figured out how to circumvent Veritaserum, though," Fred said idly.

Hermione nearly fell off her chair. "You WHAT?"


	8. Yuletide Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationships are hard, especially when you're running a lake risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

"I don't – well, I can't dance, really," Harry said, blinking confusedly up at Professor McGonagall. "Besides I'm not even meant to be here. Won't I be embarrassing?"

Professor McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose as if thinking that very thing. "Be as that may, Mr Potter, you're still going to the ball, and you will still be expected to open it with your partner. If I were you, I would get a date quick-smart. Off you go now, Potter."

"She wanted to talk about the Yule ball," Harry said slightly incredulously, before Hermione could ask. "It's imperative I bring a date, apparently, because we need to help open the ball. As if I didn't already have too many eyes on me. Who the hell am I meant to take with me to a ball? Everyone's going to think we're dating!"

"You could bring Hedwig," Ron sniggered.

"Ha-ha. I don't think she likes dancing, somehow," Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione smacked his shoulder with a spare roll of parchment. "This is ridiculous. Snuffles says Dad went stag to his fair share of parties before he started dating Mum, why can't I?"

"You're the boy who lived," Ron pointed out. "It should be easy for you to score a date."

Harry just grumbled to himself.

Hermione shook her head, unsure whether to be amused or exasperated. "Come on, we're going to be late if you two keep slowing down to talk like that. Worry about it later, Harry, you've got plenty of time until Yule."

* * *

"I'm really sorry," Harry said, attempting to mask his growing impatience, "But I really don't know you and I wouldn't go to the ball with someone I don't know…"

When she was gone, Ron raised his eyebrows and shot a sideways glance at Harry. "I thought you might end up having to go with that one."

"Some Gryffindor you are," Harry grumbled. "Just because she's twice my size… besides, I'm getting irritated. I've already been asked four times today, and I don't know any of these people! I don't even recognize half of them!"

"At least they don't seem to be running away from you," Ron pointed out. "I'm pretty sure some are running away from me. I haven't even asked anyone."

Harry grimaced. "Sorry, mate."

Ron shrugged. "I'll figure something out. I didn't even realise you could go stag and not get laughed at… though I suppose the dress robes…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just wear your Rionach ones. If anyone asks, you got them for Christmas."

Ron frowned.

Harry sighed. "Mate. Just wear the things. Yes, we spent some money on you. You'll live. Consider it payment for your work in the 'surprise', if you want. Whatever. Hey, Myrtle."

"Hello Harry," the ghost said in a voice somewhere between despondent and blank. "You look irritated. Did someone throw a book at you?"

"The metaphorical one, I guess," Harry grumbled, though he was slightly gratified that Myrtle looked more interested than sympathetic. "Apparently I'm meant to take a girl to the Yule Ball to open it – and everyone's going to think we're dating because of Rita Skeeter. The last article she wrote was full of tosh, but still, annoying."

"I mean," Ron piped up as Myrtle frowned, "It doesn't really have to be a girl. You could probably take a guy. Not that Rita would make that any better."

"Yeah, I think I like girls," Harry shook his head. "Definitely not happening, because I don't have a social death wish, even if it would throw everyone off. Besides, we're still acting the perfect trio. I was thinking of asking Cho, but that was before we had to dance. Besides, I think she has a thing for Diggory."

"She definitely does," Hermione's voice said from behind them. Myrtle waved as the bushy haired witch slipped into the bathroom. "She said yes just now."

"Bummer for you, mate," Ron said sympathetically.

Harry shrugged. "Rita would probably say I was chasing older women or something."

"I'd ask you to take me," Myrtle admitted mournfully, "But I hate dancing. Also, I don't think they'd let you – because I'm a ghost!" She sniffled, eyes welling up, and dived into the toilet.

Ron blinked. "She still likes you?"

" _Open_. I don't suppose a few years is a long time for her, by now," Harry said idly. "At this stage, I probably would take her, you know. Down the hatch, people."

He waited for his friends to jump down, before following. Since cleaning up, the slide and antechamber were slightly less mucky, but not by much; only really enough to prevent any splashing when they landed. " _Close_ ," he ordered, and there was a creaking noise as the Chamber obeyed. Together, they left the antechamber, walked down the passage, and slipped through the final door into the chamber proper. Ron trotted over to sit down at his chess set while Neville, who was already there, looked up from his work and smiled. "Alright, Harry, Ron, Hermione?"

"Harry's scared of girls now," Ron declared, as he shifted a rook to the right and moved a king forward.

Harry narrowed his eyes and glared. "Whereas girls are scared of Ron."

"Oh, shut up, you two," Hermione scolded, torn between exasperated and amused.

"Actually, it's not really the girls I'm scared of as Skeeter," Harry admitted. "She wasn't awful after the first task, but I've seen some of her other articles out of Ginny's magazine. She's vicious."

"You can't get out of it," Neville warned. "It's a tradition. Gran's being going on about it for ages, saying I have to represent our family properly. I took your sister, by the way, Ron. Hope you don't mind."

Ron grumbled. "Better you than – I dunno, Goyle or something. Do anything stupid and I'll rip your head off."

Harry sighed. "I just want us all to go and maybe have a bit of fun. I don't want the baggage of everyone thinking this is my future wife or something."

"Just go with a friend, then," Hermione said practically. "Or someone you can't possibly already be dating. Just keep away from the fangirls, for God's sake. Viktor asked me, for instance."

Ron choked. "Krum?"

"He's surprisingly good conversation for a Quidditch player," Hermione said, jotting down a few notes with her quill.

"When did this happen?" Ron demanded.

"Just before I got here. He noticed me in the library a while back and kept coming over to make small talk."

"Blimey, he's fast," Ron groused. "Makes the rest of us look awful."

Neville rolled his eyes.

Harry sighed, deciding he should look to alternative sources. "Dobby?"

There was a sharp crack and the former Malfoy elf appeared clutching a large, sticky wooden spoon and a half-empty packet of flour. "Yes, Harry Potter sir?"

"It's just – wait, what are – you know what, never mind. Dobby, can you tell us anything about the Yule Ball?"

"The Yule Ball is being a very important party," Dobby recited quickly. "It is being an important part of the Tournament. The champions is being opening the ball with their dates and the schools is mixing. This is being for international cooperation. The Yule Ball is taking place at Christmas, after the daring task and before the rescue task."

"Did they make him memorise that?" Neville hissed to Ron, who shrugged.

Hermione ignored them. "The what?" she asked sharply.

"The Yule Ball, Miss Hermy," Dobby frowned.

"No, I mean after that?" Hermione twisted her hands slightly. "You said rescue task?"

"Yes, Miss Hermy… is being very dangerous." Dobby nodded solemnly. "But Dobby will help Harry Potter!"

Harry let his head drop onto the table. "Aargh…"

Ron sighed and picked up a pawn, moving it forward onto the board. "Well, that makes things complicated."

"Is Mister Harry Potter sir being alright?" Dobby asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Harry said half-heartedly. "Thank you, Dobby. You've been a great help. You can go back to – whatever you were doing."

"Thank you, sirs and miss! Dobby is helping making dinner!" Dobby chirped, before vanishing.

"If he's making dinner, why was his spoon covered in syrup?" Neville asked.

Harry groaned again, still using the table as a pillow. "Padfoot. I knew this was a bad idea…"

* * *

_Dear Remus and Snuffles_

_I know I sent you a letter just two days ago, but I'm in a pickle._

_The Yule Ball is coming up, and as much as I would love to show up stag, Professor MG. won't let me. Apparently, it's tradition to have the champions open the dance. And according to Dobby, the second task is a rescue task. I think this probably violates Health and Safety regulations, but whatever. It's pretty clear that whoever I bring, I will have to rescue. Considering the last task was dragons, this does not bode well for the person. I don't want to get a friend in danger. Then again, I don't want to go with some random girl. Plus, Rita is on the prowl and she's sure to make out that we're in the midst of some passionate romance. I'm seriously considering taking Hedwig. Or the squid. You know, the Gang squidnapped the squid recently, shouldn't be too hard for me to take it to the ball, apart from the bit when you need to get through the door._

_Hermione is going with Krum, which is worrying, but she's probably the most capable of all of us._

_Help._

_Harry_

_P.S. Why are you eating pudding for dinner? That's not fair. And Hermione says it's not healthy. I don't get to eat pudding for dinner._

"Harry," Hermione said sharply, "Don't encourage them."

"I'm not!" Harry protested. "I'm stating a point!"

"The wolf and the Grim won't stop anyway," Luna, who had wandered down and was now testing a rather odd spell, commented.

"Immature," Hermione grumbled.

Harry sighed. "If I was in prison or doing whatever Moony was doing for the last 13 years, I'd be eating a lot of pudding too."

"That doesn't make it healthy," Hermione grumbled.

"Ron's survived so far," Harry pointed out, making Ron yelp an indignant "Oi!"

"I give up!" Hermione threw her hands up and walked off to watch Neville making a firework.

Harry chuckled to himself, before coaxing Hedwig over and tying the letter on. "Are you going to the ball, Luna?"

"Oh, no," Luna smiled. "I thought I'd use the peace to go thestral chasing. They like the night, you know, the quiet, the wind. And steak. They like steak too."

Harry blinked. "Okay, then. Have fun."

Luna smiled serenely. "I will."

* * *

"He's onto us!" Sirius said dramatically, falling onto the couch and sprawling as if dejected.

"Now will you let us eat vegetables?" Remus complained. "As good as pudding is…"

"Stop going on about the vegetables," Sirius whined back.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You know, I thought Harry might stay out of girl trouble until at least his fifth year. Halfway between his mum and his dad. I'm disappointed."

"To be fair, he's trying to stay out of it. Most of this is whining about not wanting to take a girl, for various reasons. Disappointing, really, seeing as he's in a much better position than any of us."

"You're a reprobate," Remus sighed.

"And you're a prude." Sirius sat up a little. "You know, whatever happens, they'll pick a friend of his. Dumbledore's not dumb enough to think he really cares about some random girl."

"Or guy."

"Yeah, pretty sure he's straight. Besides, Rita would be a nightmare if he came out now. Probably disrupt every single one of their plans… Ugh. I'm thinking. That's your job."

"So, are we going to write back?" Remus asked.

"Of course we are!" Sirius said jovially, jumping up. "Right after we finish dessert."

Remus growled and tackled Sirius quite soundly. "You're a first-class idiot, Black."

"Mm, and yet you love me."

"Not this argument again," Remus grumbled.

"You just hate losing," Sirius said smugly.

* * *

_Dear Harry_

_If you bring a female friend of yours, they will end up as your hostage. If you bring a girl from your grade in general, it will be a random selection out of your friends, or the girl if you happen to focus heavily on her. Except Hermione, who is probably Krum's hostage, unless they can pinch someone from Bulgaria. Knowing Dumbledore, anything is possible. If you bring a guy, numerous heads will explode, but it will be quite messy to sort out. By messy, I mean that Black brought Dorcas Meadowes once and that still isn't sorted out properly, and she was a girl. Don't bring the squid. We helped the rat do that once. By we, I mean Snuffles. A bit obvious._

_You'd better be eating alright, Harry. You need your health._

_Love Remus and Snuffles_

* * *

"I make one comment about food," Harry grumbled, "And Moony gets onto me."

"I thought he was more responsible than that. He can't just let Sirius eat what he wants," Hermione huffed.

"That's not really the point," Ron said weakly.

Harry sighed. "We're sneaking out again."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Hermione's going with Krum, Nev's going with your sister, Luna's going thestral chasing, whatever those are. We need to buy flowers."

* * *

"Parvati won't shut up," Hermione grumbled to Harry as they stirred their potions. "She's been gushing about it all day."

"I'm glad she's pleased," Harry sighed, face still a little flushed, not that the fire beneath his cauldron was helping much. "This Ball is almost more trouble than it's worth."

"Who'd you ask, Ron?" Hermione whispered, shooting a furtive glance at Snape, who was talking to Malfoy.

"Katie," Ron replied, flushing slightly.

"Why?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "She's pretty, and she likes Quidditch. When you find that, you grab on and don't let go."

"Honestly," Hermione huffed.

"By those standards," Harry murmured, shooting Ron a sly glance, "Looks like you'll end up being Neville's best man."

Ron spluttered incoherently as Hermione giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I picked Adonis. I can't wait for Padfoot to hear that one.  
> *Evil Padfoot cackling*  
> *Silver crying*  
> *Pebbles standing awkwardly*


	9. A Red and White Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alcohol doesn't make you hallucinate, Harry," Hermione said patiently. "That's not how it works."  
> "Magic," Harry grumbled. "It's magic alcohol, it can do what it likes. And my head still hurts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

"Well done," Harry said, as Fred and George wandered into the chamber at 10 o'clock at night, rubbing their wrists and palms. As usual, it was a hive of activity, with people looking over legislature, planning and creating tricks, researching and practicing, and, in Ron's case, creating abstract diagrams of their current political and war-related status using chess pieces. "What'd McGonagall do?"

"Just the one detention," Fred reported, as he slumped into a chair with a grin and put his feet up. "Writing lines."

"I… must…not…give…the…entire…school…a…heart…attack," George mimed, bouncing over and sitting beside his twin.

"You did terrify the first years, you know," Hermione said reprovingly, glancing up from her oversized stack of laws and regulations and ceasing her frantic writing to shoot a sharp look at the twins. For their part, they looked entirely unrepentant.

"Eh, they'll get over it." Fred waved a hand dismissively. "Someone's got to improve their constitutions."

Neville raised an eyebrow as he gently brushed dust off a delicate-looking plant. It swayed, cooed slightly, and puffed out a small quantity of purplish dust. "I suppose so, but is giving our Head of House an aneurysm the best way to go?"

Ron shuffled two knights forward onto the chessboard. "I think McGonagall's immortal, so it doesn't really matter."

"What makes you think McGonagall is immortal?" Luna asked curiously, tottering over weighed down by a large pile of books. "Is it the lack of Squorking Flumps around her?"

Ron shrugged in reply, leaning back on his chair and swinging on it, letting the front legs lift off the ground. "Can any of you imagine her dead? Like, actually dead and gone?"

"He's got a point," Lee agreed. "Hey, Fred, about these trigger lines…"

"Wait," Ginny said, blinking as Fred jumped up and wandered over to Lee. "What did you actually do?"

"Nothing!" George shot her a faux-injured look. "We just put earmuffs on all the fireplaces!"

"And told everyone there were deaf heaters in the common room," Neville pointed out.

"It's not our fault 'deaf heater' sounds like 'Death Eater'," Fred yelled across the chamber, before going back to helping Lee with his oversized map of the Great Hall.

Hermione groaned, putting her face in her hands and no doubt wondering how on Earth she had ended up where she was.

"Sure it isn't," Ginny drawled. "So, who are we tagging this time?"

"I figured we'd go for honest tagging from now on," Harry said. "So we tag whoever does the most for the event. It just… when we did the armour, it was so random – I mean, I know a little of Death Eaters, and it was just too similar. Unknown identities and a uniform group." He shuddered. "We may as well start building a sort of personality, anyway… they'll appear on their own, and it'll start drawing away from our real selves, too."

"Well, Lee's setting up the activation lines, Hermione and Luna are doing the illusion, and Neville altered the potion," Ron said. "I'd say everything else can take a back seat."

"Alright, then – argh, my quill's broken again," Hermione grumbled.

"Well, you did just write thirteen feet of considerations for the Wizengamot." Neville shook his head. "That's about ten feet longer than Gran does. You're not going to read the whole thing, are you? They'll hate you. Forever."

Grumbling, Hermione threw the quill away before holding out here hand. "Accio quill," she muttered, causing a greyish, speckled feather to jump off the table and zoom over into her hand.

"Ooh," Luna commented. "Very nice. Hmm, I almost wish I could be at the ball, to see what's happening, but I don't want the thestrals to miss me…"

"Plausible deniability," Harry offered. "Hermione says that all the time."

"Perhaps," Luna agreed.

"Who's spiking the punch?" George asked.

"Dobby is," Harry replied. "Why?"

"You know your godfather told him to add Firewhiskey, among other things, right?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "You're complaining?"

"No! I'm just wondering if we could acquire more. Last time was fun."

"Don't worry," Hermione said flatly, "There'll be plenty of fire."

"Good," Lee said, "Because for their next trick, Gred and Forge are intent on turning the third floor into a swamp, and we need the castle dry enough that we don't all get pneumonia and have to take lung-purging potions."

"If that kills the spiders that nest along the windows, then I'm all for it," Ron commented. "I don't care if I'm spitting phlegm out for the next week if it kills the ugly buggers."

"You know spiders can swim, right, Ronniekins?" Fred asked.

Ron turned a funny grey and didn't answer.

"Great," Neville grumbled, getting up from his pot plants and putting down the watering can. "You've broken him again."

Ron turned to him. "Nev," he began. "What happens to the spiders you was down the drain or flush down the toilet?"

* * *

Ron was already halfway through a conversation on Quidditch tactics with his date by the time Parvati and Lavender came down from the dorms. This was fine by Harry, because a bored Ron wasn't something he wanted to deal with half an hour before the Ball. Last time Hermione had neglected to keep Ron occupied, at the beginning of third year, a door had been sealed shut with a combination of locking spells and muggle superglue. Nobody had made that mistake again. Except Fred and George, who expressed that intentionally causing Ron to become bored might be a decent way of destroying the castle. Neville thought they were insane. Hermione postulated that they were insane, and there was no thinking about it.

"You look nice," Harry said slightly awkwardly, handing Parvati a small bunch of flowers he'd acquired on yet another trip to Hogsmeade (this one with all the boys in tow, and a shopping list from half the fourth and fifth grade). "Er… shall we go?"

Parvati beamed. "Sure!"

Parvati did look genuinely pretty. Apparently, four years spent studying magical fashion and makeup did actually make you a dab hand at generally making yourself look excellent for the occasion. Both Parvati and Lavender had picked out good colours for their dress robes, good makeup palettes, and done their hair nicely. Harry, however, wasn't really fidgety because Parvati was looking better than normal, especially since she usually looked pretty good day-to-day. It was more a combination of nerves over the Gang's latest mischief and having absolutely no clue how to deal with a date. He suspected, for one thing, that his godfather had been deliberately unhelpful.

If this got stuffed up, Padfoot would be acquiring a Howler. Or boils. Perhaps both.

"So… excited?" Harry asked.

Parvati nodded. "Oh, yes, it's my first ball. I mean, sometimes the pureblood families hold balls as well, but I've never been able to go. They're mostly for the adults, I suppose. It's such a shame, really, they're supposed to be really nice, and there's nowhere else to go dancing and dress up," she said eagerly. "Lavender and I have been preparing for ages. I mean, we didn't know what it was, but dress robes were on the school list, and that means there must have been something on. I'm glad they picked Christmas, really, because it's too hot to dance in summer…"

"I… can't really say I've ever danced myself," Harry admitted, "But I'll do my best not to crush your feet."

Parvati giggled. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry smiled slightly. "Um… look, I'll be honest, Parvati, I'm not really super excited. I mean, parties are nice and all… But I was basically obliged to bring someone along, and I figured someone might as well have a good time of it. I'll try not to bring your day down, so if I'm being – I dunno, broody or something, I think Ron said – tell me. Really."

"You don't like dancing?" Parvati sounded like she was unsure if that was even humanly possible.

"Well, I've never danced before, so I don't know. It's more a case of me hating attention, really. If I gave you a flower every time I don't want to talk to someone tonight, you and Lavender could distil it and have enough nice-smelling things to last a lifetime. And probably that of any children you might have. But that's life, I guess. I have a lovely date to take my mind off it, right?"

Parvati nodded, reassured. "You can count on me."

Harry decided that all Gryffindor girls, and not just those in the Gang, were wonderful after all. If sometimes rather giggly.

* * *

Three hours later, Harry stepped to the side, narrowly missed Dobby, who was carrying a large bottle of unidentified liquid under the guise of being a Hogwarts House Elf, stole a sandwich from the snacks table, and wandered over to Neville. Hermione was still with Krum, Fred had insisted on dancing with Ginny, Ron and Katie were nibbling on biscuits and discussing the World Cup outside, and Parvati had been filched ten minutes ago by a Durmstrang boy who was far too charming for his own good. Harry didn't mind so much, since his feet didn't approve of his dress shoes, so he let Parvati go, assuring her he was fine with it and would meet her at the end of the night.

"Go alright?" Harry asked.

Neville shrugged helplessly. "I stepped on her feet at least twenty times in the first dance. Weird, the fast ones were easier."

Harry laughed. "I get you. I hope Parvati doesn't hate me too much, I stomped her feet a few times too."

"Where is she now, anyway?" Neville asked.

"Hmm? Oh, this guy from Durmstrang – Bran – Branimir? I think that was his name… anyway, apparently, he thought Parvati was quite pretty. That bit he made clear."

"Ah. You don't mind?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. "My feet hurt. Hers, somehow, don't. Besides, I was right about dancing not really being my thing. Not fair if I drag her around the whole night, is it?"

"Mm," Neville hummed. Taking a sip of his drink, he frowned and held it out at an arm's length. "This tastes odd."

"By now, it's probably been spiked," Harry pointed out, remembering Dobby wandering past.

"Ah, right… doesn't taste like firewhiskey, though."

"Could be anything," Harry said. "Gillywater, mulled mead, wine, Winter Vodka – butterbeer, even. If I was to spike the drinks, I'd mix it up and make people play roulette with the punch bowls."

Neville snorted. "You're a horrible person. I don't feel hot or cold, so it's not the whiskey or vodka, and it doesn't taste remotely like butterbeer…"

Harry leaned over and looked into the drink, but it was plain orange, too ordinary to give any indication of what was inside. The scent, on the other hand… "Wow, that's got to be strong stuff."

Neville laughed. "Well then, better enjoy it before we're all washed out at 1 AM."

Harry frowned. "I think we've corrupted you. You're not meant to enjoy this, Nev."

* * *

A quarter of an hour later, the plan finally came into effect.

It was set up quite similarly to the Hallowe'en incident, using a combination of illusions and an effect on the populace, mostly because the first incident had such a good reaction. It had seemed like a good way to entwine the celebration and even, ensuring people would never be able to mention Christmas of 1994 without instantly thinking of what had occurred. Not that they wanted to overshadow the ball; just to add to it.

A single trigger was linked by runes to around twelve different points around the hall, set up a day beforehand using an invisibility cloak, a knife, and three pounds of grey chalk. It was set up to activate under two specific circumstances:

1\. It would be past 9:30, and

2\. A trigger phrase would be uttered.

Harry was rather surprised it had run almost an hour overtime, considering the trigger was so simple. Plausible deniability, Hermione had said about fifty times over the term, so plausible deniability they created, using a fairly common phrase but a small area in which it would work, meant to throw suspicion off. They would be genuinely surprised when the prank went off, because they couldn't know when to expect it.

Tracey Davis, who was gossiping about… something, sighed from her table, turned to Daphne Greengrass and grumbled, "My feet hurt."

The first sign that something had occurred was the soft sound of bells, then a sharp whistling. A few people looked up, but most people were too busy with their own thing, and the Weird Sisters' frankly overloud music drowned it out. Harry, dancing with Katie while Ron was fanboying over Krum, noted both Tracey and the noise, but ignored them fairly well. Besides, Katie wasn't much better at dancing than he was, at least not with a partner.

It was, however, rather difficult to ignore the Hungarian Horntail that smashed through the window, accompanied by three crates of fireworks and a small number of whole turnips, one of which hit Percy Weasley on the nose. Apart from the fact that dragons are usually quite dangerous, especially when, like now, they were sending tongues of sparking fire around the room and the few people who had instantly gone into hysterics, Katie had stood on his foot. Though she was no Crabbe, a person who spends time throwing a heavy leather ball around and is an entire year older than you is usually rather heavy, and Harry winced as his toes protested quite liberally.

Luckily, though Fred would later say he was disappointed that nobody managed to wet themselves, the dragon made three passes across the room, sending fire licking at the space just above people's heads, took a dive directly at the judge's table, and exploded surprisingly quietly into deep green, silver, and yellow dust. Said dust proceeded to rain down over the room, turning white and falling as snowflakes to form a small layer on the ground and upon the heads of the watching people.

"Oh, that's nice," Katie commented, putting out a hand to catch the snow. "Bit of a bore seeing the sky when the weather doesn't actually come inside."

"Ow," Harry said somewhat pleadingly.

"Oh." She removed her foot from his. "Sorry, Harry."

"No problem," Harry muttered weakly, glancing back up into the air, where the snow was falling from. As expected, words were writing themselves in the air, although Harry somewhat regretted allowing Luna to choose the colouring. In large, cheerful letters, a message spelt itself out, clashing rather horribly with itself in crimson, acid green, and silver:

_Greetings, Hogwarts and guests._

_Hello, it's the Gang again. Did you think we got distracted? We think not._

_We brought you trouble last year, and no, we don't plan on stopping._

_We are still around, and we are still recruiting. Bit slow, though. Come on, you boring lot._

_Oh, and you there, you who knows who you are… well, you know what you did, once again. I really wouldn't deny it, if I were you…_

_Merry Christmas. Let's have some fun, shall we? The snow will continue to fall in here, but don't worry, we tested it before. The photos are lovely. No need to thank us._

_Not that we intend on keeping the peace, of course._

_Love, Miss Wishbone, Mister Honeysnout, Miss Pebbles, and Co._

Of course, this wasn't enough, and the letters promptly exploded too, though not before the press had taken half-a-dozen photographs.

"Is that all?" someone grumbled.

The hall waited, but nothing happened, and, as was inevitable, they drifted back into doing what they were doing before – though now with a little snow. Madame Maxime looked mildly puzzled, Karkaroff scowled, and Dumbledore moved a sizeable pile of snow off his head. A turnip fell from the rafters and hit Ludo Bagman on the head.

* * *

Of course, things were never so simple, and when Harry got up the next morning, the first thing he noticed, apart from his light hangover, was that his normally plain black hair was streaked scarlet, emerald and silvery. Neville had apparently imbibed a lot more than Harry, because his hair was a solid mix of the three colours, as was Seamus's. Dean apparently hadn't touched the punch. As for Ron, it was hard to tell when his hair was usually red in the first place.

The second thing Harry noticed was that Dumbledore appeared to have donated his eyes to almost every girl in the castle. Or at least, he had donated his sparkle.

Harry decided that Neville had either done an admirable job, or Dobby had been more liberal with the alcohol than would have been advisable.

"Alcohol doesn't make you hallucinate, Harry," Hermione said patiently. "That's not how it works."

"Magic," Harry grumbled. "It's magic alcohol, it can do what it likes. And my head still hurts."

* * *


	10. Two Steps Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

Harry sighed as he wandered into the Great Hall and his skin promptly began glowing a rather sickly green. Installing enchantment bubbles in various choke points around the castle meant maximum coverage, but also necessitated sacrificing yourself. He glanced up at the words on the wall – _from Mr Silver and Miss Pebbles, with love._ It didn't make him feel much better. In all honesty, he was unbothered by the glowing enchantment. He just wasn't looking forward to the random-activating expelliarmus. The spell had been his own idea, until George got bored and decided that it wasn't breakfast without a food fight… and since the food fight they'd started in their own first year earned them a month's detention, they'd begged Hermione to help them research a way to randomize Harry's spell. It also had the funny side-effect of causing the Hermione's Glow Charm to be chosen at random too, which was why the Headmaster was glowing lilac, McGonagall Slytherin silver, Snape an all-too-cheery blue, and Colin hot pink.

"Morning," Harry said, sitting down at the table and reaching for an apple.

Ron, whose glow was a similar shade of red to his hair, mumbled something through a mouthful that was probably a 'Good Morning' but also might have been a 'Hoop Earrings'. Hermione smacked his shoulder with a yellow-glowing hand.

"Bit tame, this," Dean commented, attacking his toast with the marmalade.

"Especially after the punch," Seamus agreed.

"You do realise that could have just been Fred and George, right?" Neville asked.

"They spend the day before scaring us all witless, remember?" Dean shook his head. "The Gang might not have claimed the punch, but it was definitely them. After that, glowing puce just isn't interesting."

"Speak for yourself, I look like a flower," Seamus grumbled, crossing his arms.

Ron snorted, dropped his spoon, and ducked under the table to get it.

"Not all flowers are pink," Neville commented mildly. "You're more candyfloss coloured."

Seamus growled and stuffed two whole eggs into his mouth as Ron snorted and popped up again.

"Personally, I think these colours mean something," Hermione said. "I mean, colour psychology is a thing in the muggle world. They probably muddled the colours intentionally, though, I mean, that's what I would do. Ooh, I wonder what spell they used? They could make the skin glow, I suppose, or maybe draw on the magical aura…"

"Now I'm enjoying this even less," Seamus groaned.

Hermione sniffed, ignoring a small yelp from the Hufflepuff table as an orange landed in the porridge pot. "Well, you can kiss goodbye to any chance of replicating the spell, then…"

"Maybe," Ron said thickly, "They just meant to make everyone paranoid."

"They're doing it wrong, then. I mean, this –" Dean stopped as his butter knife went sailing from his fingers and narrowly missed Alicia Spinnet. "Wow, that went far."

"Don't kill the sporty ones," Seamus said.

"What about the rest?" Hermione asked indignantly.

Neville sighed. "Not this argument again…" he said, as there was a loud splash from the Ravenclaw table and several shrieks.

"You know," Harry said, finishing his bacon, "Everyone seems to have a bad case of the butterfingers today."

"Yeah, Warrington just hit Parkinson with a pear," Ron agreed.

There was contemplative silence for a moment, before Angelina Johnson lost her fork to a spot on the Hufflepuff table a few inches away from Cedric Diggory's fingers.

"You know," Seamus commented, "I always wondered why the Weasley twins never started throwing food."

"What the hell, Vaisey!" someone yelled from the Slytherin table.

Neville put his head in his hands. "We're doomed, aren't we."

An undersized Ravenclaw was hit on the side of the face with a banana, and promptly threw a bowl of porridge back.

"Aaand…" Fred (or maybe George) commented, holding up a finger.

"Food fight!" Terry Boot yelled. To be fair, he was entirely coated in pumpkin juice.

"Called it," Fred-George said smugly.

Within a few seconds, Hermione was hiding behind a shield charm as the Ravenclaw table turned into a mess of flying, edible objects. Not long after, someone missed their shot and hit Ernie MacMillan on the nose with a banana, causing the Hufflepuffs to get dragged into the chaos, not that they seemed to mind, judging by the way Susan Bones dumped a pitcher of juice over her best friend Hannah's head. The Weasley twins, for their part, didn't bother waiting to be pulled in and started banishing Cheeri-Owls at the prefects. The Ravenclaw prefects ranged between unamused and distracted by flying sausages; the Hufflepuff prefects hit one of the twins in the eye with a piece of toast.

The turning point, however, was when Pucey got nailed with the contents of a jar of peanut butter. As Snape dropped his head onto the table, a few very inventively launched pieces of food left the green table. For once, this was met not by boos but by laughter, not that those nearby didn't reply in kind. By this point, Seamus was levitating flaming toast, Lavender and Neville had taken cover under the table, and a rather irritating fellow who was apparently named Cormac McLaggen had been knocked out by an entire bowl of fruit banished across the room. One would have thought the Great Hall had reached peak chaos by the time Professor Flitwick was knocked off his chair by a perfectly spelled pile of waffles.

Unfortunately for anyone hoping for de-escalation, the owls showed up a minute later. They ranged from confused to irritated to appreciative of flying food. The confused ones flew in circles and generally got knocked out of the sky, the irritated ones dive-bombed people in puffs of feathers, and the hungry ones stole people's missiles. Dumbledore tried to call for order, but was ignored and hit by a buttered pancake. The thing about young wizards, something noted by the Gang long ago, was once you had them riled up, they just didn't stop. By the time Harry got up to leave the Great Hall, accompanied by a bacon-stealing Hedwig, he was covered in marmalade and Pixie Puffs, had milk in his hair, and was sporting a moderately-sized bruise on the arm from a high-speed apple core. At this point, he was more irritated about the fact someone had thrown a half-eaten piece of food at him than he was about the bruise.

The house elves, for their part, were confused at this strange human tradition, though strangely happy at the enthusiasm by which their work had been used, never mind it was meant for eating.

* * *

The perfect thing about these pranks, Harry thought as he spied on 3rd-year transfiguration with Ron and Hermione, was that they were completely blameless.

"Puffskeins!" Ginny blurted. Professor McGonagall stared at her.

"Open sesame!" a Ravenclaw boy said, looking slightly terrified.

McGonagall frowned. "Are you alright, Miss Weasley, Mister Cornfoot?"

"Never gonna let you down," Luna commented, though nobody seemed to think this was strange.

"Spaghetti is made of worms!" Colin chirped, entirely unbothered.

"I've lost my toad," a Gryffindor girl mumbled.

"Snape is a dungeon bat!" A Ravenclaw girl said, looking far too pleased with herself.

McGonagall sighed. "The next person to speak will be losing five points from their house."

"Can you transfigure mistletoe from missiles and toes?" asked a Gryffindor boy.

"Blishwick –" McGonagall began.

"Chips, crisps, fries, what's the difference?" someone from the back called out.

"Luke, I am your father!" said a confused Ravenclaw pure-blood. Luke Dawson, for his part, thought this was hilarious.

"Class!" McGonagall snapped.

"I like turtles. Turtles are very nice. In fact, I think turtles should become the new house symbol."

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"Frogs."

"This is a public service announcement. Sirius Black is _hot_."'

"Please ignore the prior announcement. Sirius Black is an _idiot_."

"This was an awful idea."

"Dobby is free-ee-ee!"

"Lots of love, Messrs. Brushtail and Points, and Miss Wishbone."

"What does the fox say, anyway?"

Professor McGonagall gave up. "Class dismissed," she sighed, then walked out to find Dumbledore. And possibly some strong liquor.

* * *

Weirdly enough, Harry was stuck in the habit of meditating on his mind every night. Aside from helping to strengthen his Occlumency shields, it made him feel pleasantly calm, which was always a bonus. Even as one of the masterminds behind the day's chaos, Harry felt washed out by the days' end. Unlike the giggling school populace, he knew what was going to happen, and had also spent the night before setting things up and trying his best not to trigger the spells, lest the timers run out before the students even got there. Focussing on reaching his magic out, however, was oddly soothing, perhaps because he was connecting to a part of himself that was becoming as natural as breathing; in any case, it made his magic hum in a rather cat-like manner, and Hermione was always going on about how cat purrs were good for you.

Peace, however, was never something that lasted within the Gang, even voluntarily, and once he felt a little better, Harry came out of his meditation efforts to find Fred and George explaining to a thoroughly confused Lee about how Luna was not Luna but her alter-ego Circe Lovegood. Truth be told, he didn't quite understand how Fred's concept of alters worked, but he figured he'd leave them to it. The preliminary trials, involving a moderate truth potion and a compulsion charm, had come up positive after all. Then again, Luna wasn't an ordinary test subject…

"We're never doing this again," Neville said seriously, checking his arms for the third time to make sure they were no longer glowing. "The cost is too high."

"Seconded!" Lee called out. "It took me half an hour to remove those spells."

"I just want to know how exactly we were meant to get anywhere floating two inches above the ground," Ginny mumbled. "I wonder if that's what it feels like to be a ghost?"

"Personally, I'm hoping to Merlin Colin got a picture of Malfoy emitting love-hearts every time he looked at Goyle," Ron said. "Anyway, what's on the agenda?"

"Well…" Harry frowned. "Does anyone know a way to breathe underwater?"

"Bubble-headed charm," Fred said instantly. "Good for Dungbombing corridors, too…"

"Gillyweed," Neville suggested. "It, um, gives you gills."

"Technically," Luna said dreamily, "Anyone can breathe underwater. It's just bad for you."

"Er…" Ron blinked at her and decided not to pursue the subject.

"I could learn to perform a bubble-headed charm, but Gillyweed would be good in case it fails," Harry mused.

"You figured out the egg, then?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, Cedric said to take a bath. I figured it must be some sort of cryptic clue, so I dumped the egg in the lake. What's down there, anyway?"

"Merpeople," Lee said. "I thought everyone knew that."

"Also Myrtle, sometimes," George added. "Not that she likes it very much."

Ron opened his mouth, then decided that he wouldn't pursue that subject either.

"You know," Ginny said slightly indignantly, "Karkaroff scored you unfairly last time. Why haven't we targeted him?"

"We can't target him specifically, that would be a good way of getting people to think we're racist bigots, or something," Ron pointed out, happy to have something to speak of that wasn't weird or extremely questionable.

"Why not catch them all, then?" Fred asked. "You're going into the lake, obviously. It'll be boring."

"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully, "That's a good point. How long do you think it'll be?"

"An hour," Harry replied. "They're nicking a hostage and putting them under, I suppose."

"If we timed something to go off at the half-hour mark…" Neville said slowly. "What, though?"

"We could ask the Marauders for advice," George suggested.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You didn't see Transfiguration class, did you?"

"Whimsy is kind of the point," Ron said. "I think it was hilarious."

"That's settled, then. Dobby!" Harry called.

"What can Dobby be doing for Mister Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked as he appeared with a pop.

"Can you take us to the Marauders, please, Dobby?" Harry asked.

"Wait, we're sneaking out?" Fred asked. "Brilliant, we haven't done that in a fortnight, I was worried we were turning…" he shuddered dramatically, "…well behaved."

"Harry," Hermione said worriedly, "What if Dobby isn't strong enough?"

Harry frowned. "Good point. Dobby, will you even be able to transport us at all without hurting yourself?"

Dobby nodded violently. "Mister Harry Potter is powerful magics. He is being giving Dobby magics too, putting on top of House Elfs magics. Dobby can do!"

"Great!" Harry beamed. "To Padfoot and Moony!"

Hermione sighed as Harry grabbed her right hand and a grinning Lee her left. "You know, I'd hate to be Karkaroff. Or Crouch, considering Sirius hates him – oh, wait, he's sick... Or Dumbledore. Come to think of it, do you think Sirius would have us target Percy if he showed up?"

"We might have to glue his mouth shut anyway," George pointed out.

That was the last thing the Chamber heard before they all disappeared with an oddly ominous 'pop'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put a poll on FF.net on ships. You can pop over if you like, since I dunno how to set one up here...  
> This was a bridge, that's all, so sorry if it's a little short.


	11. Padfoot Goes Bananas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the second task... we're actually half-way through the school year...  
> WARNING: Sirius has a Sirius-esque sense of humour. Approach at risk of brain explosion. [Cause of explosion currently unknown]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

"Er, Padfoot, are you sure this is a good idea?" Harry asked a final time.

"Sure! Nobody's going to realize it's me anyway," Sirius said cheerfully.

"It seems a little bland to me," Fred grumbled.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Fred," she said slowly, "We are going to explode things above people's heads."

"Peeves juggles swords over people's heads – hey, maybe we should get Peeves in on it!" George exclaimed triumphantly, much to Neville's abject dismay.

"Using Peeves would distract from the message behind it, though," Ron pointed out. "It would be less effective in the long run."

"We can keep Peeves on the burner for later," Ginny suggested, as the twins looked crestfallen.

"Are you sure you've mastered the voice-changing charm, Pads?" Remus asked concernedly. "If anyone does recognize the voice, this whole thing will be blown right open."

"Stop worrying, Moony," Sirius grumbled. "Dobby, a.k.a. Richard Legrande, is on hand if something goes wrong."

"Why am I not comforted?" Remus mumbled.

"Um, guys?" Hermione asked. "Who named Dobby?"

"Sirius, why?" Harry asked.

Hermione hit her head on the table.

While most of the gang was sorting things out at the Marauder house, Luna and Lee were sitting in the chamber managing the last of a weirdly complex combination of charm-work. Myrtle was watching idly, having figured out that she could indeed drift through walls into the secret place.

"I might come down and watch. Other than you, it's so lonely in my toilet. Nobody wants to come in because I'm in there," Myrtle sniffled.

"From the stands, or in the lake?" Lee asked curiously.

"I don't know. The lake, probably."

"You'll have a better view from in there," Luna commented, raising her wand and temporarily activating the spell. "Oh, poo, it's still blurry."

"We might have to make do with that," Lee grumbled. "The task is tomorrow and this is the best we can get."

"The fireworks will make up for it," Luna said consolingly.

"I hope so," Lee sighed. "Or this is going to flop."

* * *

They day of the task dawned clear and sunny. Harry grabbed his supplies – Gillyweed from the apothecary, his wand, and four lockets on strings, each marked with a champion's name – ate a hasty breakfast, and raced down to the shore of the lake. Sure enough, the judges were standing around talking as the teachers set up a number of large tents and stands for the observers to sit in. Harry walked over to the water's edge, touched the surface with his fingertips, and winced. He was going to skin the idiot who suggested diving into the lake in February. The water burned cold and he hoped he would be able to swim through the water without his muscles locking up, as his failsafe required he be able to move.

"Ah, Harry!" a voice called out, and Harry turned around to see Ludo Bagman striding over, beaming. "Figured out the egg clue, did you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. "Though I can't say I'm looking forward to it."

Bagman laughed. "Well, what's a game without a little risk, eh, Harry?"

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully, "I guess that's true, but I didn't really sign up for this… still, I've nearly been roasted, and I'm going to nearly freeze, so I suppose the third task will be lukewarm-ish."

"That's… one way of looking at it. You have a plan, then?" Bagman asked. "Remember," he added in an undertone, "If you need help, my dear boy, you need only ask…"

"Oh, I'm fine," Harry replied absently. "I suppose it's Ron down there?"

"Yes," Bagman admitted, looking slightly perturbed. "How did you know?"

"No snoring. Best sleep I've had in months," Harry laughed. "Well, I'd better get ready. Hogwarts Victory, and all that."

"Ah, yes, right," Bagman nodded. "You do that, lad. I've got to go, too… things to organize, you know…"

"Yes, sir. I'll see you later, sir," Harry said, and he watched as the man vanished out of sight, before going over to the newly formed Champion's tent. "Can I come in?" he asked Professor Sprout, and when she nodded, he ducked inside, glanced around and, seeing nobody, placed the lockets on the four seats inside, made a slightly overexaggerated "Hmm?" noise, and sat down, pretending to inspect the locket as he did so.

He had been inspecting for twenty minutes when Fleur showed up, shivering and looking irritated.

"Cold?" Harry asked.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Why would you put ze task in ze lake in winter? _C'est incroyablement – stupide !_ "

"If it makes you feel any better, I think Viktor will be the only person not freezing his toes off," Harry commented, "Considering most of us stay away from swimming in the lake even in summer…"

"Zis tournament, eet eez more trouble zan eet's worth," Fleur fretted. "Et I can't find my sister anywhere!"

"Don't worry," Harry said, "They wouldn't let anyone drown – well, not the hostages, anyway…"

Fleur hummed and picked up the locket on her chair. "What eez zis?"

"No clue," Harry lied. "They were here when I arrived. I thought they might be Portkeys, but they're named, so they must be something else…"

They were silent, Fleur looking suspiciously at her locket, until Cedric arrived ten minutes later, pink in the face with cold. "It's windy!" he cried, collapsing in his seat. "And we're meant to be jumping in the lake!"

"Could be raining," Harry pointed out.

"Don't say that, or it'll start," Cedric muttered. "Go jump in the lake, they said. Eternal glory, they said… ruddy stupid…"

"That's what she said," Harry said cheerfully, and Fleur choked.

"So," Cedric said, choosing to ignore the prior statement, "What're these?"

"No clue," Harry said once again. "Whatever they are, there's one for each of us."

"'Arry said he zought zey might be Portkeys," Fleur said, "But zey are specific to us, so zey must be something else. I don't like zem."

"Well, there's one for each of us, so it can't be sabotage, can it?" Cedric asked, turning his locket over.

"But what eef somebody wanted to sabotage ze tournament et zey tried to attack us all?" Fleur exclaimed.

"Would that… happen?" Cedric asked.

"If they wanted to embarrass our Ministry, possibly," Harry said. "But if I wanted to change the Tournament in any way, I'd do a better job than this. I'd… I dunno… impersonate an official and change something that was already required."

"Why are you thinking about these things?" Cedric asked.

"My hostage is Ron, and he snores. I got a lot of sleep last night, and my mind's running like a house elf on coffee," Harry chirped.

"Ugh," Fleur muttered. "I've seen zat. Our house elf's son drank some coffee once et nobody could walk across ze floor without slipping on ze polish for weeks…"

Cedric snorted as Krum walked in, scowling as always. Harry grinned. "Alright?"

"Karkaroff kept me up all night," Krum grumbled, slouching over. "I von't be surprised if I fall sleep in the vater."

"Isn't that disallowed?" Cedric asked.

"I'm pretty sure the rules of the Tournament are just for show," Harry commented.

Krum picked up his locket, turned it over, flicked his wand at it, and put it on. "Vat?" he asked, as the others blinked at him. "It von't kill me when I put it on. Good enough."

"Eezen't zat a little… what eez ze word… pessimistic?" Fleur asked.

"I go to Durmstrang," Krum scowled. "Some of the cupboards try to eat you. Occasionally, they succeed."

"A girl got possessed by a diary two years ago and let loose a sixty-foot snake in the castle," Harry commented, "So we're a little jumpy about random objects."

"Wait," Fleur asked, "Zat was real? I zought zey were telling stories!"

"Hogwarts is like a bomb that keeps going off," Cedric explained. "It's just a bomb we all like very much."

"There's something wrong there somewhere," Krum commented.

* * *

"Hey, have you seen Ron?" Neville asked, sitting down between Lavender and Ginny.

"No," Lavender said, pausing in her inspection of her nails. "Why?"

Ginny cackled maniacally.

"He may be under the lake somewhere," Neville said.

"The lake?" Parvati gasped, leaning over Lavender. "Really?"

"Well, it's a hostage task, so he's either in the lake or we're here to watch figure skating," Neville pointed out.

"Ooh, that's brave of him," Lavender cooed.

"Um," Colin said, frowning next to Ginny, "How are we meant to see what's going on?"

* * *

"Looney," Marietta Edgecombe snickered, "Are you sitting next to a ghost?"

"Mmm," Luna hummed in response, as Myrtle sniffled.

"And why would you bring knitting? We're watching the Tournament. You're weird."

"Well, if you can see to the bottom of the lake with a spell, I'd love to learn it," Luna commented.

"YAY!" Fred yelled. "We corrupted her!"

"It was inevitable," Luna smiled. "Myrtle, do you think this beanie needs a blue or a purple bobble?"

* * *

"This is going to be boring," Malfoy grumbled.

"But it's so exciting! They're going into the lake!" Pansy trilled.

"Lake is cold," Goyle commented.

"It's a lake! We can't see into the lake! We'll be staring at water for an hour, maybe longer," Malfoy pointed out. "Waiting for Potter and Diggory to pop up again…"

"This is why we need magical televisions. If the muggles can do it…" Tracey commented. "Honestly, how hard is it to create a moving illusion?"

"At least pretend to be excited," Blaise said. "This is a politically important event."

"Which fool decided to hold it on a winter morning?" Daphne asked, muffled in a Slytherin scarf. "This is why I keep saying we need to take over the Ministry when we grow up."

"That's boring, though," Pansy moaned. "What's wrong with parties?"

Blaise rolled his eyes slightly and sipped his drink. "When we've taken over, we'll throw you a massive party, Pansy."

"What exactly are we going to do for an hour?" Nott asked.

"I brought snacks," Millicent offered.

"Millie, you're a goddess," Tracey decided. Crabbe nodded furiously.

Millicent beamed.

* * *

"Welcome, wizards and witches!" Bagman yelled, and the crowd roared. "Welcome to the second task of the famed Tri-Wizard tournament! Today's task, ladies and gentlemen, is a rescue task! Four people dear to our champions have been selected as hostages and put into an enchanted sleep at the centre of the lake! Our champions will have to swim to the bottom of the lake to retrieve them from their imprisonment by the merpeople, who have so graciously agreed to aid in this task!"

The crowd gasped, cheered, and generally expressed their excitement.

"So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you – the Triwizard Champions!" Bagman bellowed, and the champions trooped out, looking vaguely apprehensive and lining up on the edge of the lake. Fleur muttered something nobody could hear, and the Hogwarts boys seemed to laugh; Krum just nodded in agreement.

"You have one hour to retrieve what you've lost," Bagman announced. "Champions… your time begins… now!"

As the audience watched, the four teens grabbed their wands in determination. Three of them cast the bubble-headed charm and jumped into the water, splashing their way out into the depths. Krum, on the other hand, stayed on land a little longer, waving his wand in complex patterns – until his head and torso turned into that of a shark. Then, he too dived into the water, and after a minute, the only sign there was of anyone was ripples on the surface of the water.

A minute passed.

Two.

Three.

Four…

"So, I told him," George said amiably, twisting backwards in his seat to talk to Luna and Myrtle, "What's the point of a motorbike if you can't do a wheelie in it?"

Myrtle tilted her head slightly. Luna giggled, finishing off the ties on her beanie.

"There's… nothing there…" Marietta mumbled.

Five…

Eight…

"You know what would be pretty? Silver streamers," Pansy decided, nibbling on a chocolate frog.

"It isn't a party without firewhiskey… I'll acquire that," Nott put it.

"I told you we needed to accelerate the takeover plan," Daphne said, shivering slightly as the wind picked up. "Oh, what about green and silver glitter?"

"Ooh, mother always uses a special spell on the glitter, it makes it hang in the air," Millicent piped up over a cauldron cake.

"Are those peanuts or cockroach clusters? Goyle?" Malfoy looked revolted. "Oh, Merlin, that's horrible."

Nine…

"Ugh," Susan said, "This is boring."

"Uh huh," Hannah agreed.

"You're killing my shoulders," Justin whined.

"Any other man would be pleased with himself," Ernie commented.

Ten!

"Ooh, explosions," Ginny chirped.

Colin started clicking his camera furiously. "Finally! I knew I brought this down for a reason!"

Letters were spilling through the air as rockets shot out of the reeds at the edge of the lake and exploded, leaving behind glowing ribbons that twisted into words in the air.

_Well, this is boring._

_Did you think we'd let your brains rot away to nothing, dear people?_

_Of course not._

_Enjoy, our dear people…_

_Love, Messrs. Swordeye and Chompers, Misses Pebbles and Stripes._

There was a soft, shimmering noise, as four images slowly formed above the Lake, each marked with a name. They weren't clear, but you could make out water and various plants floating around in all four of the images. They were slightly blurry, and keeping track of four pictures was going to be interesting, but children have short attention spans, as do some adults, and so the crowd cheered quite vigorously.

"Alright!" A voice warped until it was nearly inhuman, but in a weird, alien way, boomed out as loud as Bagman's. "I'm Darth Vader, and I'll be taking over from Ludo with my good friend Richard Legrande. We have Viktor Krum at the top left, Cedric Diggory top right, Fleur Delacour bottom left, and Harry Potter bottom right! Let's see what our champions have to offer, shall we?"

"Would you be lookings at that, people! There is being a Grindylow attacking Mister Harry Potter!"

"Is that a house elf?" someone asked.

"That's right, Dick, my friend, there is! Let's see what he does – attempts to cast a spell – a note to our spectators, most offensive spells don't work underwater as the water actually absorbs the spell – ooh, that must have hurt!" 'Darth Vader' cried, as the horned water demon leered, digging its sharp claws into Harry's arm.

There was a sharp bang and the audience jumped as there was a sharp squeak from the judge's platform; the people sitting there were flicking ice cubes onto the grass.

"See that, folks?" 'Darth Vader' asked gleefully. "That there is a little something to make things interesting. Any time any of the Champions are hurt, one of those fireworks will give the judges a taste of the task themselves!"

"It is looking like multiple Grindylows is being attacking Mister Harry Potter now – he is being breaking their fingers? Cracking job!" 'Dick' exclaimed, as the vision spun around quickly, revealing half-a-dozen of the creatures and a wand-tip pointed directly at them.

"He's in hot water now," 'Darth Vader' commented. "Looks like he's going for the 'run away' method… And it appears Mister Krum is currently tangled up in some water-weed near the surface of the lake. Come on, mate, being high won't help you, the hostages are down deep…"

"Miss Fleur Delacour is just being encountering a larger, bigger flock of Grindylows!" 'Dick' exclaimed. "This is being very dangerous for her…"

Another rocket exploded directly over the judge's table. "Miss Delacour was just injured!" 'Darth Vader' announced. "Look, I ain't her parents, but that scratch looks nasty…"

* * *

Lupin sighed and put his quill to the parchment, crossing 'Horribly Obfuscated Star Wars reference' off the list, where it joined 'Bad Pun About Water', 'Offend the French Within Five Seconds', 'Miscellaneous Bad Pun', and 'Say Something About Weeds, Preferably Questionable'.

* * *

"Mister Cedric Diggory just collided with the giant squid, looks like it's time to get your eyes checked, mate – maybe you should borrow Potter's glasses? Mister Krum just got himself free of the weeds…"

"Miss Fleur Delacour is not being doing well," 'Dick' reported solemnly. "I is believing that is being the fifteenth rocket from her injuries – oh! She is being returning to the surface! Is she?"

"Looks like she's out to it! Oh dear, that's nasty," 'Darth Vader' said. "She's returning to the surface, but not by choice! It looks like Fleur Delacour will be out of this task! Look and learn and remember, kids, if the frog has horns, it ain't your friend – or edible…"

There were two loud bangs and a shower of ice and water fell down onto the judge's table – having managed to evade getting soaked by dodging the smaller rockets, the judges were now drenched.

"That's the signal! Miss Fleur Delacour is unable to go on!" 'Darth Vader' howled.

"This is making me be thinking about the eleven-year-olds who is being rowing across this lake every year," 'Dick' commented.

* * *

Lupin raised his eyebrows, thought for a moment, and crossed out 'Jab At Workplace Health and Safety', 'Joke About Harry's Eyesight' and 'Offend the French Again'.

* * *

" _You know,_ " one of the Durmstrang students commented, " _This is actually pretty cool._ "

" _Don't let Karkaroff hear you say that,_ " his friend muttered.

* * *

By the time Harry popped out of the water with a slightly soggy Ron and a quarter-Veela who was nearly strangling him, the judge's table was a mess.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said, ignoring the noise of the crowd. "Where's Fleur?"

"She got attacked by a massive horde of Grindylows," Hermione reported. "What did you do? Half a dozen rockets went off just before you hit the surface, but no-one could tell what was happening."

"I tried Luna's advice about breathing underwater. Didn't work," Harry replied, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. "I think I've got pond-weed in my lungs…"

"Hermione, you haff a water-beetle in your hair," Viktor noted, apparently slightly irritated at being ignored.

"Ooh," Fleur Jr. commented. "I like beetles." She picked the beetle out of Hermione's hair. "I will name you Madame Fromage."

Hermione blinked in confusion as Fleur Jr skipped off with her new pet. "Uh… you know what, let's go see the scores."

Once the scoring was done (Harry was way overtime but got extra points for 'Moral Fibre'), Harry was promptly enveloped by a large crowd, an abnormal proportion of which was made up of redheads.

"That's number two, when are you rescuing us?" Fred asked loudly. "We're running out of time!"

"Plus, we're much better looking than Ronniekins," George declared, to scattered laughter. Ron made a face.

"Vader thought something along those lines," Ginny chirped. "You make quite an ugly girl."

"I don't look anything like a girl!" Ron protested.

"Yeah, well, like he said, aren't accounting for Harry's bad taste…" Fred muttered.

"Just… no," Ron decided. "You're a nice guy, Harry, but not if you paid me. Hey, can we strangle Vader?"

"Sure, not like I'd date you either," Harry said. "No offense, but I think we're brothers now and that'd be... urgh... How are we strangling Vader?"

"We've got some rope from when we broke you out of your bedroom two summers ago," Ron replied thoughtfully. "If we sent it via a letter…"

"And that," Colin told his brother Dennis, "Is why teenagers are dangerous."

"Cool!" Dennis squeaked. "Will we be like that when we're teenagers?"

"We can only hope," Colin answered solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad dog, no.


	12. Luna Loves Glitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter ain't mine. Onward through the web.

To anyone who might have found their way into the Chamber of Secrets on the day after the second task, the place would have appeared to be the illegal hide-out of a mafia gang. In some ways, it was. Sure, nobody was being thrown into the lake with cement shoes, but there was a young girl being heavily interrogated, a large book listing laws, their circumvention, and their establishment, a large amount of objects illegally owned, a decent quantity of cash, and an overzealous servant.

"You see," Luna chattered, "Mad-Eye Moody used to have blonde hair the colour of straw and a nice round face. Now it's all ugly and he has a peg leg. I don't trust him, you know. He's rather odd, and not an Auror."

"Ah HA! You – wait, was that the truth-telling trial or the lying one?" Fred asked, turning around, a slight frown on his face as he paused, quill a half-inch away from the clipboard.

George frowned slightly and picked up the empty bottle, squinting as he looked at the label. "Uh, this is Vial 13B, so truth," he reported.

"Huh. That guy gets weirder and weirder. What do you mean he's not an Auror?"

"Never mind that," Hermione grumbled, picking up a box of assorted potions and flicking through them. "Crookshanks has mixed up the vials again."

"Are the ropes really necessary?" Luna asked good-naturedly as George swore and levitated the bottles into his hand, sorting them back into their groups.

"It's for psychological pressure," Hermione said practically. "We need to replicate real conditions."

"Oh. You should probably make them tighter, then," Luna replied amiably. "I undid the knots fifteen minutes ago." She pulled her arms out of the ropes and wiggled her fingers at Hermione.

As Hermione groaned and got to work re-tying the ropes, over at the main table, two miscreants were at work bending the law and a third was caring for some deceptively cute-looking plants. "Wizengamot meeting soon?" Ron asked, nibbling a chocolate frog and scribbling down a note on the Act for the Preservation of Blood Purity of Canned Anchovies. "Merlin, who would inject strawberry jam into anchovy veins? There's a bloody ten galleon fine for it."

"No idea," Harry said absently. "Maybe we could frame someone for it, I bet Percy would help us with the conviction… Hey, look at this, the Act for the Protection of the Scandinavian Snarling Sunflowers… says it's illegal to kill the buggers, they're protected in Sweden and the Swedish Ministry is real touchy about it."

Neville frowned, stole a frog from Ron's pile, and gently patted a Flitterbloom Bush, which squeaked happily. "You're saying," he said slowly, leaning back against a table leg, "We should cause a diplomatic incident?"

"Not now," Harry assured him, putting away _Laws of 1748_ and picking up _Laws of 1749_. "Maybe later."

"I'll write it down," Ron said eagerly, splattering ink slightly as he scrawled the note in a book. "I've never caused a diplomatic incident before. Sounds fun."

"It does," Harry agreed, beaming.

Neville rolled his eyes and picked up a pot of Orpheus's Orchids, wandering over to the third and final group present in the dark cavern. "You needed some of these?" He asked, holding out the bot and sending a slightly puff of sweet, flowery scent through the air.

"Ah… yeah! Yeah, we did," Lee confirmed, reading off a piece of parchment. "Okay, so, a bottle of Gillywater, two Orpheus's Orchid petals, five venomous tentacula seeds, half a pint of snake blood, and a drop of bee bile… why was that stuff so expensive, anyway?"

"Because extracting bile from bees is an easy task," Neville chuckled. "You do realise most of that stuff is illegal to own, right?" he added, turning over the some tentacula seeds.

"All of it," Ginny corrected him, from her spot sorting various packets of silvery powder. "The snake blood is illegal if you own more than a quarter pint and the Gillywater was bought using fake ID."

"Right," Neville replied, as Lee plucked two pale grey-blue petals from one of the orchids and dropped them delicately into a soup pot. The mixture inside went from glossy green to dull, milky white in an instant. "What's in the packets?"

"Well," Ginny sighed, "Half are dried doxy droppings and half are powdered dragon claw. The doxy droppings are important for one of Fred's potions and the dragon claw would make a good combat boost, but…"

"We're never letting Crookshanks in here again, even if he does provide a decent source of kitty dander," Lee said flatly. "Plus, he keeps trying to eat Michael."

Michael was Lee's hairy, fanged, dinner-plate sized tarantula. It would have been tea-saucer sized, except George got it into his mind to feed the animal a growth potion.

"You brought Michael down? Ooh, let me show him to Ron," Ginny begged.

Ron was saved by a sharp crack that heralded the appearance of Dobby on Salazar Slytherin's nose. The house elf arrived with a big grin, one pink sock, one green sock, a strange contraption, and a small bag.

"Back already?" Harry called out. "How'd it go, Dobby?"

"Very good, Master Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby chirped. "Dobby is having acquired the Wheezy's moneys!" He held out the bag in the air for the teens to see.

"Ah, brilliant!" Fred beamed. "Thanks, Dobby. We've been bugging him for ages…"

"How did you do it?" Hermione asked curiously, pausing from attempting to wrangle Crookshanks.

"Missy Luna Lovegood is telling Dobby that Bagman is being scared of goblins attacking. So Dobby is bringing along his own weapon," Dobby explained matter-of-factly.

"That's just a vacuum cleaner," Neville observed.

"No it's not," Harry muttered. "Trust me, you don't want to know how that thing gets the dust out of the carpet…" He shuddered slightly at the memory.

"Why do the Blacks have a muggle thing like a vacuum cleaner anyway?" Ginny asked. "That sounds more like Dad's kind of thing."

"It's probably Sirius's fault," Ron mumbled. "Let's face it, everything weird in that house is Sirius's fault."

"What about the goblets, the attic, the grape juice and the instant ramen?" George asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought we agreed to forget that?" Hermione asked, confused. "We must have, because I can only remember what that involved and not what it entailed…"

Luna cleared her throat, wiggling her feet slightly. "Can I get off the chair now?"

* * *

"Fawkes," Dumbledore asked seriously, turning to the phoenix that was making itself at home squeezed into his bookcase, "Do you think something's up?"

Fawkes chirruped and wriggled into the gap between _The Modern Approach To Duelling_ and _Alchemy Made Simple_.

"It bothers me, I must admit," Dumbledore commented. "These recent pranks have been rather disconcerting. It does the children no harm to have fun, but I worry they may be trying something subversive."

Fawkes trilled and knocked _Transfiguration Weekly Issue #1853_ onto the floor.

"Of course," Dumbledore sighed, "I would not be so worried if I could access Mister Potter. But, alas, his mind has slowly clouded itself, and I cannot risk breaking in more violently."

Fawkes chirped twice, snuggling down satisfied into the little gap.

"I worry Harry may not be ready to meet his destiny," Dumbledore fretted. "He is such a good child, but I cannot be sure."

Fawkes made a noise reminiscent of an owl.

Dumbledore sighed. "You're right, of course," he told the bird. "He is a good boy, and his mind is probably trying to protect itself from further pain. I'm sure it's just children messing about. An old man may get paranoid, you know."

* * *

"Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"What's this?" Ron asked, turning the pen in his hands over.

"A permanent marker," Harry said amiably. Sneaking over to the Muggle side was breathtakingly easy as a grown-up, so when he had time, Adonis had taken Circe on an expedition into London to acquire supplies. Said supplies had included twenty permanent markers, a small basket, three muggle comic books, and a large container of glitter that Luna wouldn't stop staring at until he bought it for her.

"A what?"

"Muggles use them instead of permanent ink charms," Harry explained. "We also let Hermione and George loose on this, so in theory, it can't be spelled off. Not easily, anyway."

"Right," Ron said, popping the cap off and looking at it. "You just press it like a quill?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"Smells like – well – awful," Ron commented. "You sure letting George at it was a good idea?"

"That's actually a left-over from the Muggle side," Harry told him.

"Will you boys stop yammering on and help?' Ginny yelled from across the hall.

"Right," Ron said, taking his pen. "Sorry, Ginny."

Harry put down his basket of Sharpies, took a plain black one for himself, and wandered over to Neville, who was humming to himself as he doodled a flower on Professor Sprout's cheek. "Starting at the top?"

"Oh, no," Neville replied. "I already drew on Mulciber, and MacMillan, and Johnson. I just thought a Flitterbloom might look nice here."

"I see," Harry chuckled, drawing a round pair of glasses and a moustache (quite badly) on Dumbledore's face. "You and Lee did a good job with this."

Neville blushed. "It wasn't too hard. We just spliced together the Draught of Living Death, Dreamless Sleep, and a few extra things I'd read about."

Harry hummed noncommittally, watching Ron cheerfully scrawling 'Gryffindors Rule' in red marker across Malfoy's forehead. "Even so, you had to find a way to get it through us without leaving an effect."

"That was mostly Lee," Neville murmured, quickly sketching out a set of vines around the Professor's neck as Harry, on a whim, wrote 'I Love Goats' on Dumbledore's face. "Wish we had Dean here, he's amazing at drawing. My Flitterbloom looks like a cabbage."

"That's okay," Harry said. "Professor Sprout loves cabbage."

"You might have to drag Ron away from the Slytherins." Neville indicated the table with his left hand as he finished of a particularly curly vine. "He's going a bit ham."

"Hermione'll stop him," Harry said absently.

"Hermione's drawing eyes on Trelawney," Neville said flatly.

Harry turned around to see Hermione was, indeed, drawing eyes all over their divination teacher. "Oops. Oi! Ron, Hermione, swap!"

"Spoilsport," Ron muttered, though he complied.

The danger, Harry had thought before they began, was that each person had their own fights to pick. While sometimes it was okay or even part of the point to vent their anger, it wasn't exactly fair to completely target someone, hence he'd have to keep away from Snape himself. While Harry was angry with the Headmaster, the old man at least had good intentions. Snape was… exceedingly questionable. In fact, the only person allowed to draw on Snape was Luna, who didn't really seem to mind the acerbic man too much (at least, not in the same way everyone else did) and was perfectly content to draw a cat nose and whiskers on rather than scrawl something offensive. The only reason Ron was allowed near Malfoy was because he'd sworn on his big toe not to write anything other than Gryffindor slogans on the irritating boy's face. Fred and George were banned from going near the Slytherin Quidditch Team – or their relatives, for that matter; neither twin was allowed near Pansy Parkinson either, for reasons unknown but vouched for by Lee. Luna was banned from Ravenclaw house, since her house-mates often weren't the nicest to her; Harry, at Hermione's insistence, was not allowed to write offensive things on Ernie MacMillan's forehead, 'No matter how irritating he was in second year!'.

By the time they were done, Hannah looked like a panda while Nott had quite a magnificent cobra wrapped around his neck and face. Angelina and Michael both had 'Hot Stuff' written on their faces, though the actual veracity of these statements was unknown. Luna had, quite inexplicably, written 'I don't like you' on Mad-Eye's forehead, while, courtesy of Neville, Justin had bright pink cheeks and drawn-on lashes like a doll. Su had the entirety of her skin coloured in a solid blue colour, a Beauxbatons girl had stars across the bridge of her nose, and Cho had spontaneously decided to barrack for Puddlemere United. A boy from Durmstrang had acquired a number of scars and an eye-patch similar to a pirate's, while a full nine people were sporting signatures of each troublemaker across their face (Miss Pebbles with the 'e's written backwards was the most misleading; Mister Silver written in bright purple made multiple people wince horribly). At the Marauder's strange request, McGonagall's face proclaimed her name was 'Minnie'; the fact both men had begged for this made Harry unsure whether he should be concerned or comforted. To top everything off, Ginny and Neville had carefully drawn crowns on the faces of each of the champions (Harry included) in addition to a number of strange declarations such as 'English food is awesome' and 'I Love Vicky'. For some reason, Luna had also decided to sprinkle her glitter all the way around the hall, dumping the rest of the container over Cedric's sleeping head as soon as she had done a full circuit – and rubbed it into twelve different students' cloaks for good measure.

Job done, the Gang did a quick job on each other's faces (Ginny became lovestruck, Lee acquired crosses over his eyes, and Hermione got two frankly unsettling red lines from the corners of her mouth up into a smile), threw their leftovers out the window, put their heads down on their breakfasts, and pretended to be asleep.


	13. Miniskirt-Sized Headaches

"Mooo-nyy," Sirius whined. "I'm bored."

"How?" Remus exclaimed. "How are you bored? You've given the daftest commentary I've ever heard, toilet-papered a house down the road, dug three holes beyond fifty yards deep, helped Dobby paint a live swan purple for some Merlin-awful reason, and somehow bonded with Kreacher over an ugly locket and a mutual love of stabbing things!"

"It once belonged to Salazar Slytherin, and Regulus wanted us to destroy it, apparently," Sirius grumbled. "And we haven't managed to kill it yet, so we'll keep trying – anyway, that's not the point! I'm bored! I wanna cause more problems!"

"Padfoot," Remus sighed, "How about no more chaos for today, and you can pick something non chaotic to do."

" _Anything_ non chaotic?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, and transfiguring Kreacher into ET and having him run down the street screaming about invasion isn't non chaotic, it's muggle abuse," Remus said flatly. "Even Kreacher knows that."

"Aww. Fine."

"Good. Got something?"

"Uh, okay. But I can be chaotic tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, Padfoot."

"Okay, because I was thinking we attach a Portkey to Harry and link it to a field so after the Cup is won the next person to touch him sends themselves and Harry up to the Astronomy Tower, because –"

"Padfoot."

"Right, right. Sleeping."

"…sleeping? Okay, go upstairs then."

"Nah. I need Moony."

Remus frowned, then blinked. "… OH."

"Yep! Come on!"

"Gay."

"Same to you." Sirius shot him a wide grin.

"I appreciate a girl just fine, you know."

"Mmhm, but there's ME."

"You're an idiot – and didn't we have this argument in seventh year?"

"Uh huh, but you love me because I'm hot."

"That's not it – PADFOOT, PUT ME DOWN!"

"Less talking, more sleeping!" Sirius yelled over his shoulder, as the other man hastily adjusted himself to be less upside-down and more stable. "We're being chaotic!"

"Mmhm, I guess – did you just wiggle your eyebrows?! Sirius, do that again and it's not happening, I swear to Merlin!"

"Spoilsport."

* * *

Harry shivered.

"Are you alright?" Cedric asked.

"Yeah, I just felt like I should be glad I'm at Hogwarts," Harry muttered. "Maybe I'm just cold? I don't know…"

"I vood get those feelings ven I vos younger," Krum said. "Usually ven I vos at Quidditch and my classmates vere getting drunk. Or playing – vot you call it here? Truth or dare."

"Or when you were going to face a maze full of murderous beasts?" Fleur asked.

"Hagrid had better not bring the Skrewts," Cedric growled under his breath.

"Oh, Merlin, please no," Harry moaned. "We still haven't figured out how they eat and I don't want to know!"

"Ze what?" Fleur asked. "What eez a Skrewt?"

"A cross between a manticore and a fire crab," Harry said flatly.

Krum swore under his breath. "You think ve may be attacked by that?"

"It's possible," Cedric sighed. "Hagrid doesn't know the difference between a kitten and a nundu, so…"

"Well, 'ow about we stick togezzer?" Fleur asked. "We can duel at ze end, or somezing like zat."

"I suppose," Harry said. "Or grab the cup at the same time. Or, you know, debate. I don't want it."

"Good, ve use you as the human shield," Viktor said with a grin.

Cedric facepalmed. Glitter went everywhere.

* * *

"ORDER!" Dumbledore bellowed. "Miss Emma, I really don't see why this law should be debated."

"There is no concordance with our current laws that forces me to be silent, Chief Warlock," Emma said testily.

"This is a clear attempt to undermine the Ministry!" Umbridge shrilled.

"Shut up!" Adonis called out, bored. "The real Lords are speaking here! Hold your tongue!"

Circe giggled and shuffled her papers. "This is interesting."

Augusta shook her head in exasperation at the entire thing.

"Chief Warlock," Emma said calmly, "I stand before you today in an institution steeped in history. I find it deeply concerning that the Ministry sees fit to erase that history, should it feel it necessary, and I see a real danger of bias."

"Nonsense!" Fudge snapped. "This is a necessary part of Ministry reform."

Emma sighed. "Well then, I secede the floor to Circe Lovegood, who has the evidence."

"Evidence of what?!" Umbridge yelled. "This is outrageous, girl!"

"Ahem!" Circe coughed, bouncing down to the floor holding a large stack of papers. "As the current holder of the Lovegood seat, I find myself required to ensure that Wrackspurts do not infest the current Wizengamot, and I find the situation concerning. After all, they make the brains of those around fuzzy, which is not ideal."

"…what?" Lord Abbot whispered.

"She's insane," Adonis whispered back. "But good. I had a look over those notes, they're… eye opening, once you get past the. Well. Wrackspurts."

"I examined the information associated with a number of families closely connected to the current seats," Circe sing-songed. "Under the proposed new law, the Ministry could re-assign seats within the family, up to second cousins. In some houses, this might take the pressure off young heirs and allow them to step to the side without losing their call to the seat."

That was absolute twaddle, considering the reassignment would be permanent, but better look thorough than biased.

"But! The Nargles informed me I should dig deeper!" Circe declared. "And I found a number of inconsistencies! First of all, this Wizengamot that sits before me could be condensed into half the number of seats, all on the light side of government, or one third of the seats, all on the dark! This is a concern in itself, as the law does not guarantee a successor have the same political preference. Secondly, this law had three spelling mistakes. And thirdly, this law would allow governing bodies to overstep the minister, provided they controlled a small portion of the current Wizengamot."

There was a stunned silence.

"Also, five seats could be reassigned to the very witch who protested our motion against the law," Circe added on matter-of-factly. "Despite not having a direct claim, Madam Umbridge would be able to take on Potter, Duguay, Malfoy, Black, and Davis."

Lord Davis spat out his tea. "WHAT?!"

"I forgot about that," Circe said absently. "I should have had Titus remind me. Oh well."

Fudge puffed himself up, glaring at his undersecretary. "What does she mean, this law could allow people to just step over me?!"

"Nothing, Cornelius! She's lying!" Umbridge squealed.

"Actually, Lovegood is right for once," Lucius Malfoy drawled slowly, reading over the bill once again. "A number of prominent families would lose not only their seats, but their House Vaults. Is this an attempt to wrest power from the Wizengamot?"

"If it helps," Adonis called out, swinging his legs idly, "The Bill also allows the Ancestral Home to be repossessed. It's hidden in Page 18, Section 48, Subsection A. I don't know but it's a long Act with a lot of confusing bits, Minister, so I don't blame you for letting it slip through."

It took all of two minutes for the motion to be stomped on and the Wizengamot to loudly demand the removal of the Undersecretary. As they stepped out to the sound of Fudge hastily acquiescing and Umbridge shrieking, Emma turned to Adonis. "Do you feel like we just dodged a bullet?"

"More like an AK to the face," Adonis snorted.

"I got the law to make forcing people to stop wearing pink miniskirts on Thursdays illegal passed!" Circe cheered.

"Oh, no," Adonis groaned. "I'm wearing a pink miniskirt on Thursday, aren't I?"

"What about blue?" Emma asked. "I don't like the pink one La - Flower grew out of."

"Blue is Monday lunchtimes," Circe chirped, skipping off. "Come on, Neville and Lee want a dead ibis for a potion."

* * *

"Hey, Lavender," Hermione said. "You know that blue skirt that's too small for you?"

"Mm?" Lavender replied, mouth full of hairpins.

"Can I borrow it?"

"Wha' fo'?" Lavender asked. "I tho' y' didn' li' mini-s'ir's."

"I don't, but someone recently put a law through the Wizengamot that makes it illegal for people to force someone to take one off during Monday lunchtimes, so I thought I'd try one out?"

"'ealy?"

"Yes, and one for pink skirts on Thursdays. I thought I could borrow that small one of yours for Harry, since he doesn't have hips to speak of…"

"O'ay," Lavender said, shoving two of the clips into her hair. "Bu' I know you're ge'ing ou' of the castle. I wan' you to buy me a size 8 pink one, o'ay?"

"I'm – okay," Hermione conceded. "But I'm not getting out of the castle."

"Sure," Lavender replied, and went back to her hair.

* * *

"Neville," Dean asked, "Why does the dorm smell like dead bird?"

"No clue," Neville lied cheerfully. "Have you considered air freshener? Anyway, I need to go check if Lavender's package has arrived yet."

Seamus watched the other boy trot off down the stairs, wiping blood on his trousers. "What just happened?"

* * *

"What is going on here?!" McGonagall exclaimed, walking over to where the Gryffindor table was sitting, almost entirely populated by students in overly-short skirts of varying shades of pink. To be fair, most of the girls looked fairly alright, but, well, Seamus Finnigan was wearing a hot pink number about a half-inch too short, Fred Weasley's clashed with his hair, and Dennis Creevey was wearing his backwards.

"We're eating breakfast," Hermione said blandly, brushing crumbs off her (black, pleated, freshly ironed) skirt. "Well. George is mixing pumpkin juice and milk together, but the rest of us are eating breakfast."

"I meant the skirts, Miss Granger," McGonagall said testily.

"It's pink miniskirt day," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "And mine's too big…"

"Swap with Alicia, hers is two years too small," Katie suggested.

"Hang on," McLaggen said suddenly, "Half of you are _guys_."

"Excellent observation, Cormac," Katie sighed. "It only took you half an hour."

"Students," McGonagall said sternly, "Miniskirts are not a sanctioned part of the school dress code."

"But Professor," Seamus complained, "I'm getting paid a galleon to do this!"

"More to the point, The Law for the Prevention of Miniskirt-Based Discrimination, passed a few days ago, means it's illegal for you to force us to take them off," Fred said smugly, as George took a sip of his drink and spat it out everywhere.

"The _what_?" McGonagall asked. "There is no such law!"

Lee pulled out a large stack of papers from nowhere. "Look, Professor, here – no wait, the Law for the Prevention of Peacock Extinction – the Act for the Preservation of Shoe Polish Density – motion to declare the Chief Warlock an idiot – here! The Law for the Prevention of Miniskirt-Bassed Discrimination, passed by Circe Lovegood."

" _Who?_ "

"Luna's cousin or something," Ginny said through a large mouthful of toast. "Section 1 states that on Thursdays, it is illegal to force someone to stop wearing a pink miniskirt."

McGonagall read carefully over the act and heaved a sigh. "I'm going to pretend this never happened."

The next Monday lunchtime, almost all of Gryffindor was wearing skirts, along with an even fifty percent of Hufflepuff, about a quarter of Ravenclaw, and the entire female population of Slytherin. McGonagall gave up altogether and dragged an equally exhausted Sprout off for Scotch and coffee.

"Why you wearing a skirt?" Goyle asked, frowning at Blaise, who was wearing one that just managed to be blue while sitting at the border of green.

"It's called political subversion," Blaise snorted. "Plus, it's an excuse to get out of the uniform."

"I think you need to wear it a little higher," Pansy noted. "It's almost too long to be a miniskirt, right, Millie?"

Millicent glanced between Blaise's dark blue number and Pansy's glittery one and nodded in agreement. "About an inch. Otherwise your legs look too short. I should know. I have short legs."

"Why are we copying Gryffindor?" Malfoy whined.

"We're not copying them," Daphne scoffed. "They were the test run so we couldn't get in trouble."

"Does _anyone_ know a spell to stop a skirt riding up?" Tracey groaned.

Crabbe made an awkward motion with his hands.

"He suggests adding a lead wire to the hem," Nott reported.

"Lead is _poisonous_."

"So is alcohol."

* * *

Dumbledore groaned to himself as Harry and Cedric stepped onto the field. Maybe it was a mistake not to isolate the Weasley Twins.

"I did not know you vere into crossdressing," Viktor commented, raising his eyebrows. To be fair, Harry was also wearing bright red stockings, because it was cold.

"It's for a good cause," Harry chirped.

"Which eez?" Fleur asked curiously.

"Pissing off whoever it was that entered me into this tournament," Harry said cheerfully, glancing around at the judging table to see Percy Weasley banging his head against the table with excessive violence and abandon.

"Wait, really? Hufflepuff's doing a charity drive," Cedric said in surprise. "You mean you're not even getting donations to wear that? Harry, my girlfriend wouldn't wear that. And she wears very, very glittery things."

"It's only three pounds," Harry said indignantly.

"Eensane," Fleur muttered to Viktor.

"Don't you know it," Harry grinned. "Want some glitter, Ced?"

"I only just got the glitter from the marker incident out, so no," Cedric said flatly.

"Your loss," Harry chirped.

Over in the stand, Ginny gleefully handed a pair of binoculars to Colin. "He went through with it!"

"Is that why you're wearing a shirt a size too big?" Lavender asked cautiously.

"Ssh, he's technically not allowed to wear a blouse, so wait until he's in the maze," Ginny whispered.

"You're weird," Marietta Edgecombe shrieked from behind.

"Does she follow you?" Ginny asked Luna. "It's creepy."

Luna hummed in thought. "It's possible, Ginny. Her mind is full of Wrackspurts, after all."

"I don't! Go away, Looney!"

"Diggory looks hot in a skirt," Parvati noted. "We should do skirt days more often. Hey Lovegood, can you convince that relative of yours to do skirts on Wednesdays too?"

Over in the Slytherin section, things were decidedly weirder, though from a Slytherin perspective, this was ordinary business.

"He really needs fashion advice. That looks awful," Pansy sniffed. "This is why we don't mix hot pink and scarlet."

"What's up with that shirt?" Nott asked. "It looks like he got attacked from behind by something and it ate the back."

"He borrowed Weaselette's blouse," Millicent reported. "The front's compensating for a lack of… baggage."

"Isn't that going to put him a disadvantage?" Daphne asked. "Diggory, too. Skirts aren't like robes."

"They're too close for them to be separate," Tracey commented. "Didn't you notice? All four of them are planning something, I doubt the skirts will impact a thing. What snacks did we bring?"

"I dunno, we left them with Crabbe and Goyle – hey! Guys, over here!" Blaise called out, as the pair came lumbering over.

"Oh, Greg, I told you rose would clash with your tie," Pansy groaned. "We can't take over if everyone thinks we're plebians."

"Not rose," Goyle grumbled. "Spilled juice."

"Scourgify," Daphne said lazily. "Hey, not bad."

"Crabbe," Malfoy said testily, "Which one of you added cockroach clusters and blood pops to the mixed nuts?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goyle, _NO_.  
> I quite enjoyed giving Percy and Dumbledore this headache. Untagged, too, just to keep Dumbledore on his toes, right? Next chapter we'll deal with Padfoot's 'extremely chaotic prank'.


	14. Skrewts, Mostly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.

“SKREWT!” Harry bellowed, voice echoing through the magically-induced dome of silence as he scrambled to his feet and took off down the nearest path in the maze. He could hear the others cursing, feet hitting the ground right behind him, and the angry gurgle-hiss of Hagrid’s beloved pets as he held his wand tighter in his hand, glancing behind him to check if the illegal cross-breed was gaining on him.

“No offense, ‘arry,” Fleur yelled, “But what _obtuse_ official authorized zis _eeleegal ‘orreur_ to be used as an obstacle?!”

“Bully if I know!” Harry called back, twisting around with his wand in hand. “IMPEDIMENTA!”

He had turned back around before the spell hit, but if Cedric’s hiss of surprise and the smell of burning hedge was anything to go by, it had simply bounced off. “The shell’s magically resistant!” the Hufflepuff yelled, and Harry had to physically restrain himself from cursing poor Hagrid to the heavens.

" _DIFFINDO MAXIMA_!" Fleur cried, and Harry only had a second to duck before the spell came whizzing back over his head, magical heat singeing the tips of his hair.

“Crap!” he swivelled around again; the skrewt was slowly but surely gaining on them.

“Maybe if ve all cast together?” Krum suggested. “It might over-velm its magic.”

“I doubt – SHI - SHITE, it’s one of the ones that breathes fire!” Cedric yelped, as the smell of burning fabric and grass filled the air. “Aguamenti! Protego inflamare!”

“What was zat meant to do?” Fleur shrieked.

“Stop the fire!” Cedric replied.

“Ze skrewt just walked through eet and _went up een flames!_ ” Fleur cried.

“Guys, I hate to say this,” Harry said, glancing ahead of them at the green expanse in the distance, “But I think we took a dead end!”

“Ve –” Krum swore under his breath. “Glacius!” There was an angry hissing noise and the sound of ice shattering as Krum called out again. “Blow up the hedge!”

“Is that even allowed?” Cedric asked.

“Who cares?” Harry bellowed. “If you don’t do it, I will!” He levelled his wand at the hedge, a slow smile creeping its way across his face.

“’Arry, be careful –”

“EXPULSO VITAM NUM MORTAM!”

* * *

Meanwhile in the stands, the judge’s table was on fire.

“Love Mr Seelver and Miss Stripes,” Madame Maxime read dryly. “Dumblydoor, why eez eet zat your students ‘ave no love for you?”

Karkaroff glared in agreement, his hair entirely on fire.

Moody cackled, walking past on the way to start his round of hedge patrol. “Constant Vigilance!”

“Moody looks unsurprised,” Hermione noted worriedly. “Do you think he knows who they are?”

“No,” Luna said, surprisingly firmly. “I think he just wants to give that impression as a method of garnering trust.”

“Oh?” Ginny asks. “Why is he garnering trust?”

Luna hummed. “Don’t worry, Ginny, the Nargles tell me Harry will be alright.”

“Bloody hell! That makes nobody feel better!” Ron protested.

“Hey, it looks like they’re planning to blow up a hedge,” Neville noted. “Does that mean the judge’s table will blow up?”

“I doubt it,” Lee said comfortably. “Then again…”

There was a loud explosion from within the maze and the sound of cursing, and, a moment later, a slightly softer explosion went off at the judge’s table, sending a stack of papers fifteen feet into the air and painting Dumbledore’s beard a similar colour to Karkaroff’s.

_Special Effects with Love from Brushtail and Points._

“Oh dear,” Alicia mumbled from her seat next to Fred.

“Yes?” Fred asked.

Alicia dumped a packet of popcorn over his head.

“For somebody being chased by an Eldritch Abomination, Potter looks far too pleased with himself,” Daphne noted, peering through her binoculars.

“Well, we all know he was in on the skirt thing somehow,” Millicent said, peeping over the other girl’s shoulder with a peppermint toad in hand.

“No, I mean, abnormally pleased,” Daphne said thoughtfully, handing the binoculars over. “Take a look-see.”

Millicent raised the binoculars to her eyes. “Huh. You’re right, he does look dangerously happy. A bit like Blaise with a knife.”

“Excuse me, character defamation!” Blaise exclaimed. “What about Theo, anyway?”

“That was one time, and I was drunk,” Nott said primly. “Besides, I thought we agreed never to speak of it again?”

“Why are we talking about Potter?” Draco whined. “Dumbledore’s beard is on fire.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Draco,” Tracey huffed. “You’re the one who goes on and on and on about him.”

“Let me see,” Pansy said, reaching for the binoculars, and Millicent handed them over. “Hmm. I see… he does look – who gave him that anklet? That’s three years out of date – he does look abnormally happy. Ooh, that was a nasty spell…”

“Where is he picking these spells up anyway?” Daphne moaned. “He’s a Gryffindor?”

Crabbe tapped Goyle on the shoulder and made a confused face.

“Dark spell,” Goyle explained. “Potter’s a light wizard. Shouldn’t know dark spells.”

“Technically, it’s a neutral spell,” Nott said blandly. “But you’re right, Greg. He shouldn’t know the modified expulso, at least – and didn’t you see how it blew Dumbledore’s eyebrows off?”

“Drakey, you’ve got to look at this,” Pansy decided. “Daph’s onto something.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Pans… okay, give me the binoculars, I’ll – okay, he’s smiling like a maniac, what in the name of –”

There was a flash of light from the maze as all four champions cast in unison and, a second later, the judges were blasted off their feet and landed smack in the middle of the stands. Draco pitied the idiot who got squished by all 12-or-so feet of Madame Maxime.

“You know,” Blaise said slowly, “If I didn’t know better, I would say Potter had an in with the Gang – but they’re clearly anti-Dumbledore…”

“ _We_ need an in with the Gang,” Tracey sighed. “They’re going to take over before we do.”

* * *

Harry was not smiling anymore.

“I THINK WE MADE IT WORSE!” he screamed, stumbling to his feet. “STUPEFY!”

“You ZEENK?!” Fleur yelled back, dodging a thrashing, spiked tail as the injured Skrewt flailed around, hissing furiously and spewing fire halfway across the maze. “You – MERDE! _IMP_ _ÉDIMENTA_!”

“Try to hit the underside!” Cedric called out. “STUPEFY! That’s the only part that isn’t shielded!”

Krum growled in agreement, silently casting a spell that glanced off the Skrewt’s foot and nearly took Harry’s arm off. Harry yelped. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! IMPEDIMENTA!”

“Who is Jesus, and why are you cursing him?!” Cedric exclaimed, ducking beneath a plume of fire.

“I’LL EXPLAIN LATER! FLAGRANTE EXUMAE!” Harry roared. There was a rushing noise as all the fire in the area was abruptly extinguished, and Harry stumbled, cursing his relatively weak magical abilities.

“WHERE THE EVERLOVING _FRICK_ ARE YOU FINDING THESE WEIRD SPELLS?!” Cedric cried, and Harry, noticing Krum was also faltering, elected to ignore him.

* * *

“What the _fuck_ is going on down there?” Ernie MacMillan asked, squinting down at the maze. “Surely four champions can get past whatever that is.”

“It’s a Skrewt,” Susan said blandly. “This is why you should have brought omnioculars instead of a telescope.’

“Oh.”

“Uh oh,” Poliakoff muttered.

“ _What is it, Poliakoff_?”

Poliakoff turned to his friend, keeping one eye on the maze as he leaned over. “ _Viktor is acting rather strange. Look, he keeps stumbling whenever he goes to cast._ ”

“ _It’s okay,_ ” the other assured him. “ _There’s an Auror monitoring the maze. If something goes wrong, he will help._ ”

“ _The Auror hates us and our school because of Karkaroff, Vanya._ ”

Vanya went to speak, but paused. “ _Huh. You might have a point._ ”

“Oh, Poliakoff is right,” a dreamy voice piped up from behind them. “Don’t worry, though, the Nargles tell me Viktor will be alright. We just have to wait.”

Poliakoff and Vanya blinked at the girl. “Who are you?”

She just shrugged and skipped back to her seat.

“ _Britons are weird_ ,” Vanya decided.

* * *

Fleur screamed as a vivid red curse skimmed her arm, thudding into the wall of the maze and burning a small hole into it with a nasty smell. “Viktor! Please, be careful!”

“I’m – Cruc – AGH!” Krum grunted with the effort of turning back to the Skrewt. “DIFFINDO – DIGGO – CRUCIO!”

Cedric yelped in shock and dived bodily out of the way of the curse. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, KRUM?!”

Harry glanced over to see Krum wrestling with his own wand. The scene was oddly familiar. “STUPEFY!” he yelled, aiming at the skrewt, just as Krum raised his own wand back at Cedric, posture uneven.

"CRUCIO!" he growled out, and Cedric went down in a heap as the spell crashed into the side of his head.

"CEDRIC!" Fleur shrieked. “VIKTOR, WHAT – _STUPEFY_!”

The spell glanced off the shell of the advancing skrewt and Harry looked from the animal, to Fleur, to Krum, to Cedric –

“FLEUR, SHIELD!” he bellowed over the rush of noise, running forward. Not bothering to check if Fleur had listened, he pointed his wand at the ground beneath the skrewt’s feet. “EXPULSO VITAM MAXIMA!”

There was a noise like a bomb going off and the four champions were flung yards from where they stood in the shockwave. The spell ripped easily through the skrewt’s soft underbelly, throwing the creature across to the other side of the clearing in a shower of broken shell and skrewt guts. Harry hit the ground hard, barely noticing the wetness across his wand arm as he stumbled to his feet, swinging around to face the next threat as Krum sat up, pointing his own wand at Cedric with cold, glazed eyes –

_Imperius._

Fleur screamed, “ _STUPEFY!”_ right as Harry slashed his wand through the air, yelling, “PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!”. There was a noise like a whip-crack, and Krum skidded half-a-dozen yards along the grass, coming to rest, still and unmoving, against the remains of the hedge they’d entered through, leaving the surrounds free to fall into still, hanging silence, but for the three remaining champion’s gasping breaths.

It was a while before anyone spoke. “W-what…” Cedric tried to sit up, pushing himself upright with his arms, but he was barely halfway there when they collapsed beneath him and he elected, shaking, to stay flat on this back, staring up at the sky. “What happened? I – I thought he was a good guy.”

“So deed I,” Fleur said bitterly.

“Imperius,” Harry murmured softly. “Did you see how long it took to properly take over him? I think a part of him knew taking two wands off the Skrewt was a bad idea. It made him struggle, for a while.”

“But who’s _Imp_ _èrius-_ ing champions?” Fleur asked, wringing her hands nervously.

“There are people patrolling the maze. With this school’s history, it could be any of them,” Cedric said, voice hoarse and betrayed.

There was another silence. Harry felt a sharp throbbing in his hand, but elected to ignore it. “Protego,” Harry murmured instead, raising his wand, and a shield appeared across the main entrance to the clearing. After a moment, Fleur echoed him, closing off the area behind her.

“Harry,” Cedric asked, after a moment. “What was that spell?”

“ _Expulso vitam maxima_?”

“Y-yeah. And the other one…”

“Expulsor curse, but modified to only attack living things. The one I used on the hedge was _expulso vitam num mortum_ , expulsor curse that only attacks living things but doesn’t cause deadly harm.”

“Merlin,” Cedric muttered.

“I found it in a library book. It seemed like the right time.”

“I – uh –” Cedric cleared his throat, beginning to push himself up into a sitting position for the second time, wincing visibly. “Maybe.”

“‘Arry, your feenger eez broken,” Fleur said suddenly, and Harry looked at his wand hand, cursing when he realized his pinky was dangling at a thoroughly awkward angle. Growling, he grabbed it in his left and and yanked it back into place, yelling out in pain over the grinding of bone on bone as he did so.

Cedric chuckled slightly hysterically. “Madam Pomfrey’s going to kill you.”

“Not if I die first,” Harry said grimly. “Now what?”

* * *

“Dumbly-door,” Madame Maxime growled. “I ‘ope you ‘ave an explanation for zis.”

“I quite agree,” Karkaroff added sinisterly, practically snarling at the other judges.

“It will be cleared up and investigated,” Dumbledore said placatingly. “For now, we need to let the competition run its course. Perhaps the instigator will slip up and show themselves.”

“You mean to say this vas a security breach?” Karkaroff sneered. “So much for the safest place in Britain.”

“We cannot make hasty decisions. They will result in more casualties,” Dumbledore murmured sorrowfully.

“You forget,” Percy said coldly, “That this is a broadcast event. I have no doubt there are children who just listened to four young men and women nearly get killed by a rabid beast and one get tortured on _live radio_.”

“Y-yes, quite right, Weatherby,” Bagman agreed. “B-but I suspect if we stop now, the perpetrator will get away.”

“Are you aware,” Percy asked, voice beyond icy, “That _every man and woman in Britain with a wireless can hear you?_ ”

Bagman spluttered.

“I thought not. I may be inexperienced, but Mr Crouch trusted me to go in his place, and _I will not let him down_.”

“Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore said kindly, “I’m afraid as Headmaster I must overrule you.”

Percy sniffed. “Perhaps. Let the record show _our_ department, at least, tried its best.”

* * *

“Are you sure?” Fleur asked.

“Positive.” Though his face was little more than a white sheet, Cedric nodded, stumbling over to Krum, legs still trembling like leaves under his weight. “I’ll stay here,” he sighed. “I’ll keep him knocked out and wait for the teachers to arrive.”

“What if you get caught by another skrewt?” Harry crossed his arms, watching the Hufflepuff with more than a little trepidation.

Cedric grinned morbidly, eyes crinkling even as his mouth twisted crookedly. “I guess I’ll just go out in a blaze of eternal glory.”

“What eez eet wiz you Eegnlishmen and death?” Fleur muttered.

“We can stay with you,” Harry offered. “You’re in no shape to fight.”

Cedric shook his head, pointing his wand up into the sky. “Periculum,” he intoned, and the shower of red sparks fell to the ground around them as he lowered his wand. “Just go. We’ll solve the rest of this after we’re out of the maze.”

* * *

“Red sparks!” Percy said sharply. “Someone will have to collect them, now.”

“Or per’aps you will deny zem even zat?” Madame Maxime added testily.

“Now, now, Olympe,” Dumbledore said, raising his hands. “Alastor will collect them. Don’t worry.”

“I vorry,” Karkaroff muttered mutinously. “I vorry a lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always felt like everyone using Pig Latin, very very Anglo spells was wrong, so here's my attempt at French-izing spells. Unfortunately, I can't do Bulgarian. I can't even find a Slavic-root spell. I can't even find a Bulgarian swear word for Krum to say. Bugger.


	15. Feel Like Dying? Great!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GOOOD MORNING!  
> (It's not morning. I'm listening to rock music. I have consumed at least a meal's worth of chocolate. I don't know what's going on.)  
> Here's a chapter to let you go from my sort-of-cliffy...

It was ten minutes before Moody emerged from the maze, dragging a slightly crazed Cedric and an exceedingly grumpy Krum behind him. It really didn’t make the mood at the judges’ box any better, really, because Cedric was proclaiming that he was _never_ going to make the fundraising target now, Krum was demanding an investigation into the people patrolling the maze, the audience was getting restless, and Karkaroff was threatening to curse someone if they didn’t call off the tournament _right this minute_.

“Merlin’s balls, they don’t look too good from here,” Ron muttered, squinting down at where Cedric was using Krum as an (albeit fairly willing) walking stick.

“No shit,” Ginny said flatly. “This whole thing’s been a fuck up from start to finish.”

“Language!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re right, though.”

“They should have called off the whole thing the second Krum started showing signs of losing control,” Neville muttered. “Especially with their ‘Boy Who Lived’ in the mix…”

“Worse things have happened,” Fred said shortly. “Let’s face it, even if his principles are probably a bit whacked, Percy’s got the right idea.”

George nodded, frowning slightly, as Ron held his omnioculars harder against his face and squinted more. Lee sighed and sat back. “Not much we can do but wait, boys. And girls.” He shifted uncomfortably, then coughed as he received a set of binoculars straight to the diaphragm. “Ron! Man, watch the breathing tubes!”

Ron, however, was busy hauling Luna to her feet. Luna, for her part, was remarkably okay about the whole thing, humming serenely to herself and calmly putting her things away as if she got bodily lifted into the air via one arm and unceremoniously dumped on her feet every other Tuesday.

“Ronald, what is it?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“Don’t you think,” Ron grumbled, wrenching his wand out of his back pocket, “It’s a bit suspicious that our resident cryptid doesn’t trust the person who took ten whole minutes to retrieve two badly injured Champions, despite having been patrolling the maze the entire time and freely offering one of the remaining champions advice?”

“You know,” George said amiably, “When you put it like that, it almost sounds incriminating.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks, George, I knew I could count on you. Look at the pieces on the board, okay? So the maze is the centre, where the majority of the combat happens. We started with five pieces on the board – Moody, who acts weird and who Luna hates –”

“It’s like standing next to a lion-goose,” Luna interjected dreamily.

“—we’ve got Krum, who knows the most dark spells, we’ve got Cedric, who’s a fucking Hufflepuff, we’ve got Fleur, I guess she’s part Veela, and we’ve got Harry, who for all intents and purposes doesn’t belong there. Around the midsection we have the officials, who are, in some ways, challenging each other, but won’t allow a lot of movement off the centre; and we’re stuck on the outside.”

“…yes?” Hermione frowned. “I don’t exactly know what you’re – getting at.”

Ron shook his head. “Look at – look at how the centre has evolved. There’s a clear strategy going on; they Imperiused Krum because he knew the most Dark Spells and therefore would be better at them, right? But look. He didn’t attack Harry. At all. He has no reason not to have attacked Harry, he’s an easy target with a knack for getting out of weird situations but no real combative ability, at least none that anyone knows of. And look who’s left on the field now – Fleur, who has the lowest overall score in the Tournament.”

Hermione still looked exceedingly confused, but the others seemed to be twigging onto it. “You mean,” Ginny said slowly, “Somebody isn’t trying to overtly kill them, but rather is messing with the Tournament.”

“And they want Harry at the end,” Neville added.

“And Moody’s the common denominator,” Fred added with a wince.

Luna clapped her hands happily. “I knew you’d all expel the Wrackspurts eventually!”

“But what do we do now?” Lee asked, glancing down at the judges’ table. “We can’t exactly burst in there, especially since we’re liable to be eaten alive.”

“What else have we got to work with?” Hermione asked quickly. “Anyone, anything?”

“… Snuffles,” George said sharply. “There’s no way he hasn’t done anything for this task, he’s far too… well.”

“I’m betting on the Cup being a Portkey,” Lee muttered. “That makes organizational sense, right?”

“…so Snuffles would mess with it by sending Harry to the wrong place…” Hermione murmured. “But what if the Cup’s been messed with, too?”

“Moody’s still on the board,” Neville reminded them all. “And we don’t actually know what colour he is – and he’s definitely a Queen, right, Ron?”

“Definitely,” Ron agreed proudly. “So… discovered attack, but we can’t block it in time… Ginny, Fred, George, Neville, run down to the stands near the judge’s table… everyone else, spread out and try to guess where any key locations might be.”

“I hate it when he uses chess analogies,” Hermione grumbled, getting to her feet. “Flat chess is bad enough, but with him all of a sudden there are five dimensions, knight-bishops, and invisible pieces.”

Fred snorted. “Aw, Hermione. Don’t sweat it. Knowing nothing is good for you.”

* * *

“You know, the Gryffindor Disaster Squad is larger than I remembered,” Pansy murmured.

“Oh, is that who you’ve been spying on for the last six minutes?” Blaise asked. “How many? They’ve got the Weaselette, haven’t they?”

Pansy removed the binoculars and gave him a flat stare. “There’s nine of them.”

“Nine?” Draco yelped. “Nine bloody – holy Merlin, we’re doomed.”

“Never mind our impending deaths,” Tracey huffed, stuffing a chocolate frog whole into her left cheek, “What are they doing? Spill.”

“Four of them are going over to spy on the judges,” Pansy reported. “The rest are sort of wandering randomly through the crowd.”

“So, they obviously think something is going down with the judges,” Nott concluded.

“And the rest are forming a defensive perimeter of sorts,” Daphne murmured. “Typical Gryffindor behaviour, if you discount the fact that one is a Ravenclaw.”

“What exactly are they planning to do?” Millicent asked, exasperated.

“They not teachers,” Goyle muttered.

Millicent threw her hands into the air. “Exactly! Dumbledore could easily take them down if he wanted to!”

“What makes you think it’s Dumbledore?” Tracey frowned.

Daphne smacked the side of her friend’s head. “Take your meds, Tracey. I told you, honestly. It’s always Dumbledore, everybody take their meds.”

“Sorry…”

“Whatever they’re about to do,” Draco grumbled, “It had better be entertaining. Father definitely overromanticized this thing.”

“Add ‘Find Better Sources of Entertainment’ to the takeover plan?” Nott asked.

Blaise snorted. “Way ahead of you, Theodore.”

* * *

Harry took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said. “Alright. Ready, Fleur?”

She nodded, face set. “Ready, ‘Arry.”

He sighed, and held his hand out, hovering an inch above the Cup’s right handle. “Okay. Three. Two. One. Now.”

Together, they reached out and grabbed on. There was the odd but familiar feeling of a hook jerking behind the navel, and then they were flying through nothingness…

* * *

“Potter and Delacour just FUCKING UP AND VANISHED!” Daphne screeched. She wasn’t the only one – at the disappearance of the two Champions, most of the stands had exploded into yelling and motion.

Dumbledore got to his feet, raising his hands and trying to call for calm. “Do not worry! The Cup was spelled a portkey in order to transport the Champions back to the front of the maze!”

It worked, for the most part; the Hogwarts students, at least, calmed themselves, sitting back down, albeit whispering and slightly shaky. Unfortunately for the attempted media farce, however, the Durmstrang students had both the complete and utter lack of propriety and the 40-degrees-below-zero-wintertime-acquired-balls-of-steel to speak up, which one of them did, quite bluntly.

“No offense, Headmaster Dumbledore, but if it vas a Portkey, then, excuse my French, vere the hell are they now? Texas?” Vanya asked irritably. “Ve are getting bored of this, Poliakoff is getting hungry and his stomach von’t shut up, we want to see a real Tournament, not this – vat is the term – fuck up.”

“That is indeed the term,” Poliakoff said solemnly behind him as the crowd exploded into hysterics as they realised that the Portkey should, in fact, have arrived a good while ago and that it was, in fact, highly possible that Harry and Fleur had landed in some magic-forsaken part of the world.

“Uh…” Bagman began, tugging nervously at his collar. “I’m sure it’s just a technical fault…”

“Where the hell did he learn that phrase?” Hemione hissed from her spot at the back of the stands; a nearby muggleborn made a face at her and turned back to the front.

“Where eez my student?” Madame Maxime demanded. “What ‘ave you done now, Dumbly-door?”

“I told you we should have cancelled,” Percy said smugly.

* * *

The ground rushed up to meet them, cold air whistling around them as they impacted with a loud thump on the slightly damp ground. Harry groaned, rolling over onto his back, reaching up a hand to check if his glasses were broken. They weren’t, but with the way his nose was burning, the landing had left much to be desired. Letting his hand drop down, he stared up the blackened sky for a moment, before raising his head a little to look around. He could hear animals scurrying around nearby, their footsteps shockingly loud on in the relative silence, crackling over leaves and swishing in the grass. He squinted at the horizon and felt dread coil within him. The castle was nowhere to be seen.

“Ugh, zere eez grass een my mouth,” Fleur complained beside him, and he turned around to see her spitting plant matter onto the ground next to her. “Where are we?”

“Dunno,” Harry muttered, slowly getting to his feet, glancing around at the dimly lit scene. A graveyard. Charming. “Was the Cup meant to be a Portkey?”

“To ze front of ze maze, maybe,” Fleur hissed. “Not ‘ere.”

“Wands out?” Harry asked.

“I zeenk so,” she agreed.

They both stepped away from the fallen Cup, wands held out in front of them. “Lumos,” Harry whispered, and the light fell just before a dark figure, inscrutable and grey in the darkness, edges ragged.

And then Harry’s scar erupted with what felt like fire; staggering, he nearly dropped his wand as a haze overtook him, held up by Fleur’s hand gripping the back of his collar. “Don’t move forwards,” she whispered to him. “We might ‘ave to run.”

Harry hissed quietly, but didn’t respond, trying to make out the figure ahead of them – and then the familiar voice sliced through the air, cold and high and dragging unwanted remnants of emotion to the surface –

“Kill the spare,” the voice ordered, and Harry’s heart stopped.

He saw the bright, agonizingly familiar flash of green before he could react, felt the hand release his collar as he struggled to stay on his feet, heard footsteps and a yell, a hand gripped his arm, a rough tugging and then he was falling…

A high-pitched wail, the sound travelling straight to his core, eliciting shivers from the sheer unearthliness, and then all was light again, or as light as the night could be, but he was still falling – Harry twisted around to look at his assailant, caught a snatch of buck teeth and mousy brown hair –

He felt his back hit something solid, sharp pain snapping through his spine as his head jolted downward, and he felt something – or perhaps somethings – he couldn’t quite discern break. There was the high, jarring noise of something stiff and brittle shattering into a million pieces, his own winded gasp for breath, and then, for a brief moment, he was in flight once again, floating through the wind. He realised he had closed his eyes in shock, and as he did, they snapped open once more, just in time to make out golden-yellow, flickering lights, a shadow alongside him, a hole through which he could see the stars winking in the pitch sky –

His back slammed into something hard once more, and his time there was no denying the sensation of bones snapping; his breath, only just snatched back, was violently expelled from his lungs, and his head spun as if he’d been pitched from a tornado. For a split second, he was painfully, horrifyingly aware of every sensation around him; his ribs splintered in two, the wind swirling frigid and uncaring around him, the rush of adrenaline, his broken finger burning as if it were on fire, the scent of iron in the air, a thousand knives slicing through his skin as he crashed onto a floor littered with knife-like shards, blood through the air and building in his throat –

His head snapped back onto cold stone, and he just had time to perceive his neck and skull screaming in protest at the sudden stop before the colour of nothing overtook his vision, emptiness seeping into his fingers and toes and ears and skin.

If he could have been honest in that moment, he would have been grateful for it.

* * *

It happened far too quickly for anyone’s comfort.

Fleur appeared without warning, collapsing face down onto the ground, the cup detaching from her ankle as she did so. Their first thoughts were that she was dead; who, after all, used a Portkey with their foot, what graceful woman landed flat on her face like a ragdoll? The stands stood there, staring silently at the limp body on the ground even as Madam Pomfrey grabbed Cedric and Krum by the scruffs of their necks to stop them storming the pitch; but before either of the young men had even been jerked backwards, Fleur was moving, jumping to her feet with surprising speed, whipping out her wand and pointing it out in front of her.

“’Arry,” she gasped, staring around at them. “Where is ‘Arry?”

And then there was a noise like the ghost of a young girl’s screams, and the entire mass of people seemed to jump out of their skin, heads whipping around so quickly it must have pained them. They saw a figure slam into the tiled roof of one of the towers, heard, faint yet clear, hitting the crowd like a swarm of arrows, the sound of tiles breaking, of wood splintering.

And then the stands exploded into screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and drop you a BIGGER CLIFFY! Hooray for attempted mood whiplash!  
> I'm back from exams, and today is a day to yeet Harry through a roof. Hope you aren't too upset at me. If you're feeling bad, please remember that the events of this chapter take place with 3/4 of the champions wearing short skirts and rocking it. You too can replicate this sort of awesomeness in amazing clothing. I really don't reccomend falling through a roof, though.  
> ...when did I last write a 2.7k+ chapter? Merlin, I don't remember. Ugh. Whatever. This one's 2.4. I'll get to 80k eventually. I've got to, I'm still on book 4...


	16. Hiatus Notice

Dear those of you who have made it this far,

Technically, I should have updated ages ago. But a whole heap of things got in the way, and by the time I got back, I'd forgotten where, exactly things were meant to go after chapter 15 - and much the same has happened for most works under this pseud. Thus, I'm going to work updates differently. I'm going to finish my current works one at a time, as I can plan them out, and as information comes to me. This means I'm putting _Spiderwebs_ on a hiatus until I can finish _Luna, Queen of Azkaban._ Then I'm going to finish off my short series, _Harry Gains a Harem_ and _Sirius Destroys the Aesop,_ before restarting _Spiderwebs._

Considering how much more of the above stories I have to wrap up, I'm anticipating about 40k more words to be written before _Spiderwebs_ goes back online - depending on how fast the inspiration comes, now that life's gotten the heck out of the way, that's between 1.5 and 4 months, factoring in my other projects.

With a bit of luck, Spiderwebs will only be down for a little longer, and then we can get back to the adventure.

All the best,

~ Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Well, for one thing, he now has responsible adult parental figures to corrupt him.  
> Oh yeah there's also a mind-control plot. (Spoilers? But it's listed in the tags!)  
> But mostly the adult parental figures.


End file.
